


blood red carnations

by ljubavi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Royalty AU, Slow Burn, Vague Ending, ft bodyguard jisung, rebellious prince changbin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 40,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26557360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljubavi/pseuds/ljubavi
Summary: “Yeah?” Jisung hooks his fingers under Changbin’s chin, tilting his head so he’s looking straight into his eyes. A challenge begging to be beaten. “Then why am I still kicking? Why am I not scared of dying right now?”
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Seo Changbin
Comments: 48
Kudos: 146
Collections: Other Ships, favorites ♥





	1. a taste of freedom

**Author's Note:**

> [slaps hood of fic] this one is Long. like 20k words minimum
> 
> its also very different from anything i have ever written? idk what people r going to think of this since stayo3 is pretty much hit or miss but uh. yeah i really love this wip hopefully it isnt terrible
> 
> [small update] i will most likely split this into 3 parts instead of 2..i know people arent huge fans of unfinished fics but *shrugs* i also do not care

Changbin purses his lips, taking in the sight before him. 

Jisung isn’t _impressive,_ or anything of the sort. He’s just barely taller than Changbin, determined eyes and a small smile on his lips as he stares right back. There isn’t a single crease or wrinkle in the black suit he’s wearing, and he stands stiffly, shoulders drawn back and hands clasped together.

Changbin tilts his head to the side. “Let's see if you can keep up with me. The rest of them could not.”

And then he’s moving, setting out of the room at a brisk pace. His mind spins, trying to map out a path that will eventually end up losing Jisung for sure. 

(He goes with the one most familiar to him, a right turn, halfway down the hall, and a quick push against the wall that’ll lead him to the library).

A quick glance over his shoulder shows Jisung following him from a distance, but it won’t take long for him to reach Changbin.

Gritting his teeth, Changbin walks as fast as his years of extensive training allow him to, taking a sharp right turn down the hall. He stays closer to the left side, searching for the familiar wooden panel in the wall.

Another glance over his shoulder shows no sign of Jisung. He smiles to himself. _Good,_ he thinks. Maybe this will be easier than he first thought.

Changbin’s been doing this for as long as he can remember, weaving through the palace halls and hiding in unexplored passageways until he got tired of the frantic guards calling for him, their shouts resonating through the thick walls.

When he glances back in front of him, searching for the panel he’s so accustomed to, he’s shocked to find Jisung standing next to it.

Caught in the act, Changbin slows down, unsure of what to do.

Jisung isn’t looking at him. His eyes are fixed on the painting hanging right next to the secret doorway, hands behind his back.

“I figured you would take this route. The queen said you always seem to disappear out of thin air down this hall,” Jisung begins, still studying the painting.

“This is quite a lovely painting. Do you know who made it?” He asks, and this time, he’s glancing over to look at Changbin. 

He pauses, like he’s waiting for an answer Changbin doesn’t have.

Instead, Changbin holds his gaze long enough to discern that he does not appear to be upset or mad but amused, almost—learning to read people is something that’s always been drilled into him, a method to search for dangerous intentions—before he drops his eyes to the floor.

“Anyways, I took the liberty of studying maps of the castle and asking around to figure out where all the secret passageways are,” Jisung continues. “Of course, they did not realize that there were any. I was careful enough to be vague.” 

Changbin’s cheeks burn, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Where _you_ went right down the hall, I went to the library and found the false bookshelf that led me to, well, exactly where you were planning to go,” Jisung says, almost smugly. Like he’s _proud_ of himself.

He turns to face Changbin completely, taking a careful step forward. His shoes _tap_ loudly against the marble floors, echoing through the palace walls.

“Well?” He prompts. “How did I do for my first day?”

Changbin folds his arms across his chest, annoyed. None of his previous bodyguards had realized he wove his way through the palace through secret passageways and rooms, which is how he had managed to elude so many of them up until now.

Conceding, Changbin says, “You’re the first to figure out about the secret passageways.”

Jisung lifts his shoulders in a pitiful attempt to shrug. “I take the job I was given very seriously.”

Changbin raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Is that why you bowed as soon as you saw me?”

He didn’t, but Changbin wants to watch him squirm.

Jisung laughs quietly, unfazed. He concedes by dipping into a low bow. “My sincerest apologies.”

Changbin smiles.

“Let’s see how well you know the palace,” He says, softly. 

Spinning on his heel, he walks back down the hall. He doesn’t need to look back to see whether or not Jisung’s following him. 

He already knows the answer.

—

“Your majesty?” Jisung’s voice is muffled through the doors leading to Changbin’s chambers.

Changbin almost topples out the window, surprised. Gritting his teeth, he calls out, “Yes?”

“Is everything alright?” Jisung doesn’t want to come in for some reason—Changbin can tell—so he puts one foot over the edge of the window.

A quick glance over his shoulder shows that the gardens are empty, meaning the royal guard is still changing shifts.

“Yes, I think I’m going to rest a little. If you don’t mind,” Changbin calls back. He doesn’t even hear Jisung’s response before he’s making his way down the palace walls. Vines are not the best alternative for ropes, but he makes do.

It is not long before Changbin’s landing on a flower bed of daisies, wincing when he thinks about the poor gardener who’s going to have to explain why the palace flowers were crushed ahead of an important event.

But then he thinks about the thrill he gets from these little escapades, from the adrenaline that wakes up every inch of his body, and suddenly the gardener doesn’t matter. Nothing matters quite like the fresh air seeping into his lungs, making him feel alive and vibrant.

And then he sees a familiar figure standing at the edge of the gardens. When Changbin meets his eyes, Jisung waves.

—

Jisung catches up to him eventually.

“This is where the prince escapes to?” Changbin would think Jisung was mocking him if it wasn’t for the strain in his voice.

Changbin keeps his gaze fixated on the sky, flat on his back. The ground is a bed of grass beneath him, a cushion. “What’s it to you?”

He’s not happy about being followed, or Jisung discovering the field of flowers. He feels like he’s drowning in them, so unlike the sense of calm he used to experience.

“They’re looking for you,” Jisung says, like it’s news to him. “Something about neglecting your duties as a prince.”

Changbin flicks a hand at him, annoyed. “Tell them you couldn’t find me.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Jisung answers honestly, “They trust me to find you.”

Changbin sighs. “That’s a lie. I’ve heard the palace guards out here. Maybe I’ll let one of them find me just to spite you.”

Jisung stares at him, except Changbin is looking back this time. He sits up, noticing that there isn’t a single rumple or speck of dirt on Jisung, despite trekking outside of the palace grounds.

“Would it kill you to stop being so,” Changbin pauses, waving a hand towards Jisung. He lets the thought hang empty between the two of them, suddenly angry.

Jisung doesn’t answer. He sets off back towards the palace without so much as sparing a glance back at him.

“I’m not following you!” Changbin calls, frustrated.

Jisung flicks his wrist at him, mirroring Changbin earlier gesture. If Jisung wasn’t mocking him before, he was now.

—

Changbin debates scaling the walls of the palace to avoid his family, but before he can get far, the palace doors slam open.

Out come a slew of guards, placed strategically around his mother. Jisung is off to the side, his hands in his pockets and a stupidly smug smile on his face.

The queen hesitates to look back at him. “It seems you were right.”

Changbin kicks at a pebble near his feet, refusing to look at either of them. He already knows what’s coming next. 

He thinks its stupid, being tied to the palace and the stone walls that have caged him in for his entire life. There has to be more to life than royal etiquette and duties that make him feel trapped, stuck to live a life planned out for him. He hates not having control of himself.

“Welcome back.” Her expression is difficult to read, but Changbin is far away, stuck in that meadow from earlier. “There is much to do before tonight. I would like you to finish it all.”

It’s the extent of their conversation. He was expecting more than a simple reminder, but he doesn’t question it.

The second Changbin is left to finish his duties, he starts walking. He slams Jisung against the palace wall, fingers clenching into his suit. The meadow is far from his mind, replaced by annoyance.

“What were you right about?” He demands. Around them, the palace guards tense up, but one look from Changbin is enough to make them back down.

Jisung is unperturbed, still smiling despite the fist that Changbin is clenching into his collar.

“Wouldn’t you love to know?” Jisung asks, sickly sweet, before changing it up. “You have 3 seconds to let go of me before I start fighting back.” 

He gestures at Changbin’s face, tracing a careful finger along his cheek. “Wouldn’t wanna ruin it so close to the party tonight. It’d be a pain to cover up.”

Changbin flinches, and steps back. Jisung is smiling when he readjusts his suit, smoothing out any wrinkles and fixing his cuffs.

“You could’ve ripped my suit,” Jisung sighs. “Not everyone has a closet full of fancy clothes like you do.”

Changbin walks off. He doesn’t look to see if Jisung is following.

—

The palace is humming with energy by the time Changbin steps out of his room. It would be easy to ignore Jisung if he wasn’t so close to him, practically glued to his side as he makes his way downstairs.

“What’s the escape plan for tonight?” Jisung asks. 

Changbin glowers. “Wouldn’t you love to know?”

He’s almost surprised when he hears a quiet laugh behind him.

“Don’t worry,” Jisung says, that cheerful tone still bleeding through every word, “I’ll find you. No matter where you end up.”

Changbin yanks open the door to the dining hall, transformed into splashes of color for the party tonight. All of their allies will be in attendance, but Changbin can only think about how the fresh air would taste on his skin and the moon lighting up the rest of the world.

The crowd quiets down when they see him coming, exchanging glances and wordless conversations. It seems his reputation has caught up with him.

Jisung, however, presses a hand on the small of his back, leaning towards his ear to whisper, “Not a single word. Boss says you can’t misbehave tonight.”

Changbin sets off without a response, weaving his way through the crowd. He wants to lose Jisung in the midst of all the confusion, but there are guards at every corner and the sea of people part for him without a single word, staring.

He hates it. He hates every second of it.

Jisung is not far behind him, his demeanor as every bit relaxed as earlier.

“Word has gotten out about your little escapades,” Jisung comments. “I wonder what they must make of it. It’s only a matter of time before they start taking advantage of your weaknesses.”

“I don’t care,” Changbin says dismissively. “Let them think or do what they want. They’re not royals. They don’t get it.”

Jisung stands by his side, his suit as crisp as earlier, and it’s the first time he’s really looked at Changbin all night.

“You think you’re the only one who doesn’t like what the world has planned for them?” It should be a harmless question, but Changbin can see the clear opening for a fight in the making.

He doesn’t take it. “You don’t get it either. You could follow me around for the rest of my life and you still wouldn’t.”

Changbin brushes past him. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, or where he’s going, but every second he spends within the palace walls weighs down on him, making it harder and harder to breathe.

Jisung is there, slipping behind guests and keeping a careful eye on him. Changbin catches glimpses of him throughout the room, no matter how desperate he is to escape him. It only makes Jisung more determined to find him, so he gives up in favor of sulking by one end of the room.

It only takes Jisung a few seconds to catch up.

“What’s your story?” Changbin asks, annoyed. There has to be one, considering how good Jisung is at his job. Jisung isn’t a nobody. The palace knows better than that.

Jisung smiles. “It’s not for you to know, is it?”

Changbin _hmph’s_. 

“You just wanna know so you can exploit any weaknesses,” Jisung continues, “If I tell you about myself, you can find loopholes. Ways to get rid of me so you can continue wasting your days hiding, except you can’t get rid of me.”

“Not that easily, at least,” Jisung finishes. He pauses, and his voice is softer the next time he speaks. “You have everything you could ever want. What are you running from?”

Changbin doesn’t answer him. He isn’t feeling particularly spiteful towards Jisung, not after being pulled apart at the seams so easily. 

It’s just that he doesn’t know what he’s running from either.

—

Changbin can’t help himself. He weaves his way through the palace after their guests are long gone, hearing the now familiar sound of Jisung following him out into the gardens.

“Do you ever grow tired?” Jisung’s earlier mood is replaced by amusement. “It’s the middle of the night.”

Changbin isn’t sure when Jisung started dropping formalities, or when he started being okay with it. He doesn’t say anything about it.

“I’m restless,” Changbin answers. “The palace makes me feel trapped.”

It’s cold tonight. Fall is slowly creeping closer, leaving him with fewer options and less time to run. Changbin wishes his suit didn’t feel so flimsy against the breeze blowing through the gardens, but it’s better than the four walls closing in on him.

Still, Changbin blends into the shadows, drifting through the dark until he reaches a particularly isolated corner. Even guards have blind spots. Changbin figured it out ages ago, but Jisung is going to realize this sooner than later.

“You wouldn’t tell, would you?” Changbin breaks the silence as he sinks to the ground, grabbing grass by the fistfuls to ground him. He knows Jisung is there; isn’t he always? Changbin is already adjusting to having him around all the time.

Jisung cocks his head to the side, still standing nearby. “About the blind spot? There’s another one when the guards change shifts, you know. It lasts about 15 seconds if they’re fast enough.”

“If you really think about it, it’d be more efficient for the guards to come out while the ones who are on duty are still there,” Jisung continues. “If the palace really wants to keep you safe, I mean.”

Changbin sighs at the thought of Jisung suggesting security improvements. 

“I just want one spot to myself,” He admits. “Away from prying eyes. I don’t care if it’s risky. If any assassins want to take me out, then so be it. At least it won’t be in that stone cage.”

Jisung seems to consider this for a moment. Changbin expects a response, but all he gets is the fading sound of footsteps trailing behind him, and he knows that Jisung is backing off. Maybe not completely—the chances of him leaving Changbin alone outside are unlikely—but enough for him to breathe a sigh of relief.

Changbin lets himself fall back against the ground, fixing his eyes on the stars shining above. 

For a moment, he forgets.

—

“I wonder which secret passageway you’re going to try and lose me with today,” Jisung says, as opposed to a normal greeting.

“Funny,” Changbin mocks, brushing past him with ease. “I will be sticking to my schedule today.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” Jisung responds, but he sets after him anyway.

Changbin doesn’t say anything else; some days are easier to follow along than others. He can sit through countless meetings with advisors and lessons if he gets moments of reprieve in between.

Those moments are interwoven into his schedule, and those days are coincidentally the ones where his parents have the least difficulty with him. 

“You can wait outside while I sit with my advisors,” Changbin says. “I don’t need them boring you to death.”

Jisung doesn’t smile, but Changbin thinks he’s close to it. “Not exactly how I pictured dying. I will wait to escort you to the next item on your schedule, then.”

Changbin falters as he reaches the grand doors to the room, glancing back at Jisung.

“Will you help me if the need to bash my head into the wall grows too strong?” He questions.

“Only if it’ll result in your death,” Jisung answers honestly. He leans forward to wrap a careful hand around the door, and pulls before Changbin can stall any longer.

“Your Majesty,” Jisung says, dipping his head.

—

Changbin’s first reprieve is a short break between talks of budgeting and administrative business he tries to zone out.

Jisung, true to his word, is waiting outside. He inclines his head when he notices him, and Changbin wonders where the sudden formality is coming from.

He waves a dismissive hand at the gesture. “No need for that. Can’t have you get me murdered because you’re bowing or being overly formal to notice the assassin behind you.”

Jisung stiffens, but Changbin cracks a smile. “I’m joking.”

“You shouldn’t,” Jisung answers, a little more hollow than Changbin had been expecting.

He sets off towards the kitchen, even though his mother has warned him to stay out on more than one occasion. Something about not mingling with the staff, but Changbin doesn’t care. He pushes past the doors, and realizes they must have newer cooks because some of them freeze at the sight of him, looking between each other.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Changbin chirps, shedding the pieces of himself he never wanted as he looks for his friend, “Where’s Felix?”

They all gape at him, until Felix pokes his head out of the fridge. “Changbin! It’s good to see you.”

“What do you have for me this week?” Changbin asks, sliding into one of the kitchen stools. Behind him, the new hires have gotten themselves together long enough to start bowing, but he shakes his head at them.

“None of that, please. I’m here as Changbin, not the prince,” He says, smiling. 

Felix makes his way through the flurry of people and movement, until he’s standing across from him. “I’ve been trying out new desserts this week for the upcoming ball. Craving anything in particular today?”

Changbin taps a finger against his chin, pretending to think about it. 

“Surprise me,” He decides, “Anything you make will be lovely, I’m sure.”

He hears Jisung step forward, but nothing prepares him for when he leans in close to his ear, and says, “I didn’t know you were capable of being nice to other people.”

Felix flicks his eyes towards Jisung, and then back towards Changbin, asking him a silent question.

Changbin gestures towards Jisung vaguely. “My new bodyguard.”

Felix pretends to be surprised, having met most of his old bodyguards and having evaded the rest when Changbin vehemently hated being tailed.

“Nice to meet you,” He says politely. “I wonder how long you’re going to last. Maybe you’ll break a record.”

He steps away from the counter in search of his dessert, and Changbin forces himself to look at Jisung.

“I come here every week,” Changbin explains, even though Jisung doesn’t need to know. “I met Felix a few years ago when he started out in the kitchen and he became my first friend.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow. “He tolerates you?”

Changbin sighs. “Why do you think I’m a god-awful person?”

In response, Jisung slinks towards the back of the kitchen, where he can safely keep an eye on him.

Felix reappears with an armful of dishes, each one topped with a variety of colorful flowers and carefully drizzled syrup and gold flakes. 

“How do you manage to outdo yourself every time?” Changbin asks, already reaching for one of the plates. He pops a piece of one of the treats into his mouth.

Felix sets down the rest of them, already numbering off their names and flavors and fillings. Changbin has listened to him talk about baking for so long that he’s learned everything there is to know.

“Cream cheese frosting?” Changbin guesses. 

Felix nods. “It took a couple tries to get that one right, but that was the batch I was happiest with.”

“It’s perfect,” Changbin reassures. “You’re way too hard on yourself.”

Felix shrugs, ever so bashful as he slides more dishes forward. “Try as many as you can before you have to go. I know you’re busy on Thursdays.”

Changbin shakes his head. “Advisor meetings can wait. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Felix’s smile is all-consuming, and Changbin gets the impression that he hasn’t been around enough lately, so he settles in his stool.

—

Changbin goes out into the gardens later, despite being warned of the repercussions of his actions if he comes back late again.

He does not care about his advisors' idle threats; he’s the one who is supposed to assume the throne, not them. They have no control over him.

Jisung is a quiet presence behind him as they walk outside of the palace, but he breaks it as soon as they’re too far for any guards to overhear.

“Did you really grow up like that?” He asks.

Changbin glances over at him, still walking. “Like what?”

Jisung hesitates, and then says, “Alone.”

“Did you think growing up in the royal family entailed having friends?” Changbin is amused by the question, not used to an outsider prodding at his life. 

“I didn’t think it meant not having any,” Jisung answers, and the rest of their conversation falters after that, with Changbin desperate to enjoy as much time outside of the palace walls as he can.

Jisung is always there though, lingering close enough for Changbin to sense his presence, but far away enough for him to pretend he isn’t there. 

He shows up a couple of minutes late simply to spite everyone in the room, leaving Jisung behind as he steps through the doors once more.

—

It doesn’t take long for the restlessness to come back, until Changbin’s climbing down his balcony in an attempt to be discreet and cutting across the gardens before the feeling presses him down.

Changbin learns that it’s a tad bit harder to make it out of the palace unnoticed, surely due to Jisung’s suggestions at improving security, but he bites back spiteful words in exchange for a veiled sense of security.

Guards flock every corner of the gardens, but Changbin knows how to blend in after spending years in the spotlight. Knows when to duck and drop to the ground, how to quiet his footsteps and keep his breaths near silent so the guards don’t catch on.

He’s been doing this for years, but he startles when a hand taps his shoulder.

Dismay bleeds through every crevice of his body. He doesn’t have to turn to see who it is, already knowing Jisung is going to be standing there in his usual black suit, not a single crease or hair out of place.

Changbin thinks he hates him, but it might be the anger speaking. 

“Close, but not quite,” Jisung says, and there’s a bit of mirth in his voice. He seems pleased at the idea of being faced with a challenge. “I spotted you scaling the walls, but I thought maybe I should wait for the right time to let you know.”

Changbin shrinks away from Jisung, frustrated.

“What’s your problem?” He snaps. “One paycheck from the palace should be enough to bring anyone out of poverty, so why are you still bothering to track my every move if it’s not for the money?”

“It’s my job,” Jisung answers simply. “I take it very seriously.”

“I’m sure you do.” Changbin’s voice is sharp, honed to a blade from years of practice. 

Jisung stares at him for a second, like he can peel Changbin back layer by layer until he exposes what’s really underneath all the anger and the urge to act out. Changbin doesn’t like it. No one has ever looked at him like that, and the attention makes him feel terribly unsettled.

“I can’t let anything happen to you,” Jisung says, like Changbin hasn’t heard the same words echoed to him before. “You know that.”

Changbin looks away, weariness taking over the fading curls of anger inside him. “Goodnight, Jisung.”

“Do you mean it?” Jisung asks, instead of leaving. “Or are you going to sneak right back out?”

Changbin doesn’t answer, and Jisung must take it as a sign to continue, because he asks, “Why do you hold so little regard for your life? Don’t you see that there’s more to this than you think?”

Changbin steps towards him, weariness gone and something glowing red-hot in his chest instead.

“Are you trying to _lecture_ me?” Changbin snaps. “You don’t know anything about me. Following me around does not mean that you get a chance to be my friend. It means that you get to make me feel cornered and give me no room to breathe until you finally grow sick of it and quit like everyone else.”

“You have no right to ask me anything.” Changbin jabs a finger into Jisung’s chest to emphasize his point. “If you’re going to do your job, do it professionally.”

Jisung’s arm twitches from where he stands, a glimpse of emotion, but it disappears as soon as it appears.

“Sneaking out is not very professional either,” He murmurs. “This isn’t exactly a conventional job. You must know that as well, or we wouldn’t be here.”

“I think you’re scared,” Jisung continues. “That’s why you run.”

Changbin starts walking. It doesn’t matter that his plans for the night were ruined; the idea of holing himself up in his room sounds much better than standing around in the dark, arguing with Jisung.

He isn’t sure why none of the guards approached them when they heard the commotion, but their averted gazes as he brushes past them are explanation enough. They either knew he was there the entire time, courtesy of Jisung, or Jisung had taken the time to warn them before going after Changbin.

He slips into a trance once he’s within palace walls, trailing through one secret passageway from another in the hopes of losing Jisung. He’s yet to do it, but he tries anyways.

After a while, he pauses to listen for the sound of footsteps. He presses himself against the wall, and waits for the telltale sounds of Jisung approaching.

When he doesn’t hear anything, Changbin slides down to the ground, exhausted. It’s the first time he has ever managed to get Jisung off of his back, but it’s not as rewarding as he thought it might be.

He sits there for an eternity, lost in his wave of thoughts until the familiar bleariness of his eyes has him nodding off.

It takes some effort, but he peels himself off the ground and brings himself to his feet. Halfway towards the end of the passageway, he remembers that Jisung is most likely outside of his bedroom doors, standing guard.

Changbin scowls at the thought, deciding to backtrack from the way he came. He hasn’t used the passageway that leads to his room anytime recently, so it takes a few trials for him to remember where it is.

He presses a hand against the false panel, feeling the familiar _click_ of it unlatching and moving out of the way. He slips into the empty space, and the door closes behind him, leaving him in total darkness.

It takes him three steps to remember that there are stairs, but by the second step he’s already falling, his body slamming into the steps before he can even stop himself. Changbin flings his arm out, trying to slow his fall but the walls around him are smooth and do nothing to help him.

Eventually, he reaches the bottom of the stairs, hitting the ground with a too-loud _thump_. He lays there for a few seconds, and then he’s pushing himself up onto his feet, wincing with every aching movement.

It takes him longer than usual to find the false panel that leads to his room, and even longer to push it open. Once the door slides out of his way, Changbin tumbles into his room, letting out a soft groan as he hits the floor once more.

Every inch of his body protests, screaming in pain from the unexpected fall, but Changbin can’t force himself to move. He must’ve been louder than he thought, because the doorknob across the room twists, and he remembers who stands outside of his door every night.

Changbin plants his palms against the floor, trying to bring himself to his feet, but Jisung is already halfway across the room, his eyes darting around.

“Did someone come in?” He hisses, reaching out a hand towards him. He’s barely looking at Changbin, too busy scanning the room. “Get behind me.”

“No,” Changbin manages, but it’s strangled. He tries again. “No. It’s just me. I fell.”

Jisung doesn’t relax, even when Changbin tries telling him there’s no intruder in his room. He stands in front of him, tense and unyielding until Changbin jabs a thumb back at the wall.

“I fell in the secret passageway,” Changbin admits. “Bet you didn’t know about that one, did you?”

Jisung stares at him, unblinking. 

“That passageway hasn’t been used in years,” Jisung finally says.

Changbin manages a smile, ignoring the screaming from his body. “How do you know that?”

“You have your secrets, and I have mine,” Jisung responds, reaching down to loop an arm around Changbin. He doesn’t even have time to protest before he’s brought to his feet, half-walking and half-stumbling to his bed.

Jisung mutters under his breath all the meanwhile, but Changbin doesn’t catch any of it. He’s too busy trying to figure out whether or not he busted a rib during his fall.

“Stay here,” Jisung orders. “I’m going to get the palace doctor.”

“Absolutely not,” Changbin retorts, and he’s back on his feet before Jisung can even turn around. His body protests any movement, but his sense of urgency is more important right now. “No one can find out about this, or it’ll get back to my parents.”

Changbin stands in front of Jisung, almost daring him to leave.

It takes him a few seconds, but Jisung’s sigh is the only sign Changbin needs to know he’s won.

He pauses, unsure, but says, “Thank you.”

Jisung waves him off.

“You’re impossible.” He glances back at the door. “I’ll see if I can find a first-aid kit somewhere.”

“Go downstairs and find Felix. He can help you out,” Changbin says. “He’s probably still in the kitchen, but ask any of the palace staff if you can’t find him.”

Jisung doesn’t hesitate before leaving, but it doesn’t take him long to come back with Felix in tow, lugging a first-aid kit and a smile on his face.

“Changbin!” Felix greets. “Why am I not surprised you managed to wipe out going down one of your secret passageways?”

Changbin eyes Jisung, suddenly realizing how he came back so quickly.

“I forgot there were stairs,” Changbin says stupidly. Felix laughs, bright and clear, but Jisung simply pinches the bridge of his nose out of frustration.

“I didn’t know you still went through them,” Felix comments. “Jisung was telling me you’ve been giving him a world of trouble.”

Before Changbin can defend himself or get a word in edgewise, Felix says, “Go easy on him, yeah?”

Changbin purses his lips as Felix sits besides him with the kit, popping it open. Jisung seems to remember that his door is open, and moves across the room to close it. He appears uneasy, and Changbin can’t figure out why until he remembers that there’s only a few guards down the hall to protect them in case anything happens.

He swallows down any worries. The chances of something going wrong tonight are minuscule.

“Let me get a good look at you,” Felix says softly, and Changbin tears his gaze away from Jisung for a second to look at him.

Felix sighs at the sight of him. “Jisung, do you mind turning on the lights? I can’t see anything in the dark.”

Jisung hesitates, looking over at Changbin. “Someone might notice.”

“I have candles,” Changbin offers. “They should be somewhere around here.”

He searches around the room, until he spots one sitting nearing the table by his balcony.

“There.” Even pointing causes his body to flare up in pain, but he does it anyways. Jisung follows his finger, and he’s moving across the room.

Felix waits patiently next to him, hands clasped in his lap. Jisung manages to light the candle with ease, and the darkness surrounding them blinks away as the flames flicker.

“I will wait in the hall,” Jisung says. “In case anyone comes.”

“If they do, tell them I am sleeping,” Changbin reminds him. “My parents won’t be happy if they see the mess I got myself into.”

Jisung hesitates. “That _I_ got you into.”

He’s gone a few seconds after, leaving him alone with Felix.

“Did you hear that?” Felix isn’t looking at him, occupied with the kit as he speaks. “He thinks it’s his fault.”

Changbin bristles at the reminder.

“Is that why you told me to go easy on him?” He asks.

Felix shrugs, but he’s smiling. “He’s human, too.”

Changbin tries to study his face to clue him in to whatever is going on, but gives up soon enough. 

“I don’t get either of you,” He murmurs.

—

Meals are shared places for them all. Jisung hovers by the doorway, near the palace guards, but Changbin can feel his eyes on him. 

He feels terribly sore from his misadventure last night, and it takes all the effort in his body not to let it show on his face. Luckily, there weren’t any bruises or cuts to cover up on his face. Changbin doesn’t wear makeup unless it’s for special occasions, and it would certainly garner the attention of his parents.

Even so, it is familiar to sit by the table with his family. As much as Changbin is displeased with the idea of running a kingdom and being chained to the castle, he finds it more bearable on certain days, when the table is filled with all the side dishes they could possibly enjoy and they manage to have a peaceful conversation over the quiet sounds of them eating together.

Changbin, for the first time in days, relaxes.

—

“Would you prefer I wait outside during meals?” Jisung asks. They’re walking down the hall together, Changbin lost in the grandiose of it all until he registers the sound of Jisung’s voice.

Changbin glances over at him. “You take orders from my parents, not me.”

“That might be so, but I could always take a step back,” Jisung says. “Meals are meant to be with family.”

“Nonsense,” Changbin dismisses, “There’s no such thing as privacy for us. We’ve been watched during meals my entire life. You never know when an assassin could appear.”

“Has it ever happened?” Jisung questions. He seems to remember himself, because he adds, “If I’m allowed to know.”

Changbin weighs the idea of telling him in his mind, wondering what his parents would think of it.

“Neither of them said anything to you?” Changbin questions, surprised. 

Jisung stands a little taller at his question, clasping his hands together. Changbin thinks he looks ridiculous with the unnecessary formality until he notices palace staff coming down the hall.

Changbin, too, remembers his place, and stops to acknowledge them when their paths meet.

The delay is momentary, and they’re walking down the winding hall before they know it. Changbin waits until the staff are out of earshot, but Jisung beats him to it.

“It was implied,” Jisung admits, “I take it you were targeted since you’re the heir to the throne and they keep upping security. It would explain the cohort of bodyguards you’ve had.”

Changbin tries not to look surprised at Jisung’s attention to detail.

“Maybe keep your voice down,” Changbin finally says. His eyes dart from one end of the hall to the other, searching for any unwanted eavesdroppers. 

Jisung doesn’t say anything after that, but he doesn’t have to. Changbin doesn’t know what else to tell him.

—

“You didn’t have to walk,” Changbin says, annoyed.

Jisung doesn’t falter from his spot next to Changbin and his horse. “I don’t need a distraction.”

“You’re gonna regret it,” Changbin teases. “I learned how to ride a horse at my big age of six, and I’ve been doing it ever since.”

Jisung doesn’t miss a beat. “Tracking trails is easy. Especially if you’re tracking an animal. No one is ever truly invisible.”

“Is that a challenge?” Changbin asks, unable to help himself. “I know the palace grounds better than anyone else, and I’ve been in the forest enough times to know how to lose someone.”

“You’ll come back,” Jisung answers. He hasn’t even broken a sweat, despite the long trek. Changbin wonders what he would do if he picked up the speed to a trot, and then a full-blown gallop.

Changbin raises an eyebrow, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “Is that what you told my mother? That I’d follow you and come back?”

Jisung doesn’t answer.

“How did you know?” Changbin presses, but it’s useless. Their conversation is over.

Changbin flicks the reins. Next to him, Jisung doesn’t say anything, even as Changbin crashes through branches and leaves a trail of dust behind.

He knows it’s hopeless. Jisung will come after him, no matter how hard he tries.

—

“You caught up!” Changbin says as a way of greeting. He pours wine into a glass from where he’s seated on the picnic blanket, and motions for Jisung to join him.

“Horses have to tire eventually,” Jisung answers. “It’s not like you hid your tracks, either. I don’t know why I thought you would know better than that.”

Changbin sighs, taking a sip of the wine he’d so graciously poured for Jisung. “Why must you ruin everything?”

“I’m doing my job,” Jisung reminds him. “You know that.”

Changbin pats the blanket this time, waiting for Jisung to take him up on his offer. Jisung stands between all the foliage, standing out even more than Changbin. 

He hasn’t been here in ages, not since he was younger, but he still remembers the smell of the daisies and the scattered kaleidoscope of light filtering through the trees above him. He remembers the way the grass felt against his back and the breeze against his skin when he would sneak out here on warm summer nights.

Jisung doesn’t budge. “You have piano lessons soon. You will be late.”

“Of course you have my schedule memorized,” Changbin says. He glances around at the food he’d brought with him, suddenly feeling a little silly.

“I receive a copy of your schedule everyday,” Jisung responds ambivalently. 

Before Changbin can say anything else, he turns around and sets off through the forest.

Changbin knows. He’ll go after him within a matter of minutes, even though he doesn’t want to.

—

Changbin hasn’t had a piano teacher in years. It’s not that he doesn’t want one, but that he’s learned everything his parents wanted him to know. He still plays it on Fridays, right when he would’ve had his weekly lesson, just to brush up on his memory.

Jisung was waiting for him by the palace doors when he showed up, following him to the hall that holds their Grand Piano. He didn’t say a single word, which served to make Changbin all the more frustrated.

He stands at the edge of the room now, watching Changbin play.

Changbin pretends not to notice him, letting himself get lost in the music instead. It’s easy to forget about Jisung when his muscle memory and emotions guide him through it.

“Must you stand there?” Changbin asks. “The chances of anyone coming after me are slim.”

Jisung smiles. “Slim, but there’s still a possibility.”

He gestures towards the grand windows lining the wall across from both of them. “Do you know how easy it would be for someone to come after you? To set up a perch and target you?”

 _Someone,_ Changbin thinks. _He’s dancing around it._

“How is you standing here going to make a difference?” Changbin retorts. “I’m a goner if a sniper targets me from long-distance. I know that.”

Jisung glances back at the windows. “You could stand to care about your life a little more. Besides, chances are they don’t make their mark.”

Changbin stands up from the piano bench, making sure to slip the cover back on. He leaves the music sheets where they are, knowing he’ll use them again next week.

“You’re willing to weigh my life against chances?” Changbin finds that amusing.

He stands by the doors, ready to pull them open, but he hesitates, waiting for Jisung to follow.

“I’ll take whatever consequences come as a result,” Jisung promises.

It’s not the response Changbin wanted, or expected, but he pulls the doors open and listens for the sound of footsteps behind him. It follows a few seconds after.

—

Changbin waves a sheet of paper at Jisung through the doorway of his room, poking his head out. 

“Good luck tracking me down today!” He chirps, before slamming the door closed.

Outside, he hears Jisung’s muffled voice. “ _Breakfast at 8, advisory meeting at 8:30 until 10:30 with a break scheduled for 9:30 to 9:35–_ ”

(The schedule is fake—Changbin wormed his way out of everything today).

Changbin is gone before he can hear the rest, slipping up the stairs of the secret passageway.

—

“You really don’t have to go into town every month for supplies,” Changbin says. “The palace can do bulk orders for the rest of the things that you need, and not just for flour and salt.”

Felix hums in response, shouldering a basket in one hand as they walk down the street. The town is bustling with people, all of them there to do their own shopping at the market.

“I prefer hand-picking my ingredients. You know that,” Felix responds. “I know you don’t like it when I fuss over you, but maybe you should’ve stayed behind this month.”

Changbin waves a hand dismissively. They could pass for brothers, technically, with Felix’s matching dark hair and their similar ages. No one really knows what he looks like since he doesn’t leave the palace for official trips often, but he put colored contacts in anyways and draped a hood over his head to disguise his face further. He’s thankful it’s chilly today, so no one spares him a second glance.

“I needed to get out for a while,” Changbin responds, “My latest acquaintance is annoying.”

Felix sighs. “Perhaps waving your schedule at him and mocking him was not your greatest idea.”

He comes to a stop in front of a stand, muttering under his breath about ingredients and numbers Changbin can’t make out.

“It was necessary,” Changbin decides, right as Felix slips the merchant a fistful of money in exchange for fruit.

Felix carefully places the bag of fruit into his basket, nodding towards the merchant. “Thank you, ma’am. Have a nice day.”

They make their way through the crowd yet again, shouldering past throngs of people. Changbin loves the hectic nature of it, having to peer up past the crowd to spot their next destination. Felix always seems to know where to go, no matter how many people are around.

In his hands, he holds a list of groceries and ingredients, a tangible reminder of how stubborn he is when it comes to shopping.

Changbin tugs on Felix’s sleeve. “Let me carry all that for you.”

“And if you injure yourself further?” Felix flicks his eyes back towards Changbin, who’s a few steps behind him. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten your incident.”

Changbin winces at the reminder. “I’m perfectly capable of helping you.”

“Maybe so,” Felix agrees, “But I still won’t let you.”

They come to a stop in front of a stand filled with various herbs, where Felix requests parsley and mint.

“I buy herbs weekly,” Felix explains, “Mostly because I can’t buy them in bulk and use them all before they start spoiling.”

“I try to use different ones every week,” Felix continues, fishing for change from his pocket. 

Changbin opens his mouth to respond, about to request to join Felix on his weekly trips as well, when someone taps his shoulder. He stiffens, looking over at Felix.

“What was it you said?” Changbin relaxes—but not by much—when he recognizes the voice. “Good luck finding me?”

Felix glances back at him, and sighs. “I figured you would catch up with us eventually.”

Changbin looks over his shoulder and finds Jisung in his own disguise. Why, Changbin isn’t sure. It’s not like the royal family advertises who they hire to protect him. That would only leave room for exploitation of weaknesses, if there even are any.

“How did you find me?” Changbin demands, shifting so that they aren’t within earshot of the merchant. Felix follows after him, until they all stand at the mouth of an alley.

Jisung raises an eyebrow. “It was easier than I thought it would be. I can only imagine how much easier it’d be for an enemy of the royal family to find you.”

Felix’s eyes dart between the two of them, unusually guilty.

“We should go back,” he says softly, before looking back towards the crowd. Looking for threats.

Changbin purses his lips, but doesn’t protest. He knows Jisung will follow him throughout the market at whatever cost, which would only ruin the trip.

They set off in unanimous agreement, diving back into the crowd once more to get back to the palace. Changbin makes a point of staying by Felix’s side, letting Jisung trail behind the two of them.

“I’m glad he showed up,” Felix sighs. “I feel safer about having you around now.”

Changbin _clicks_ his tongue. “I don’t.”

“What was that?” Jisung’s by his ear again. “I could’ve sworn you said that you don’t feel safer with me around.”

He presses closer, murmuring, “Did you see the man who walked past us about a minute ago? I’m going to assume you didn’t, because he had a knife. Real sharp, too.”

Changbin recoils, but he says, “You don’t know if that was meant for me. No one knows what I look like.”

“Is that so?” Jisung is smiling. Changbin doesn’t have to look to know. “Well, I guess he’ll never tell us. I knocked him out a few blocks ago. Not that you noticed, that is. You’ve been complaining ever since we left.”

This time, Changbin looks back at him, disbelieving. He can feel Felix’s eyes on the both of them, but he ignores him.

“Why would you do that?” Changbin asks, horrified. “He could’ve been trying to protect himself. You don’t know why he had a knife.” 

Jisung seems amused by his reaction, like he was expecting it. “Don’t you get it? I’ll do anything to get the job done.”

—

Changbin doesn’t leave his room for the rest of the day. He asks one of the staff to be his messenger, that way his parents can think he isn’t feeling well and not neglecting his duties, and carefully closes his door when they leave.

He heads over to his desk, thinking about what Jisung said to him earlier.

_“Don’t you get it?” He had asked. “I’ll do anything to get the job done.”_

It almost makes him wonder. How far Jisung would be willing to go in order to protect him. It’s oddly personal, unlike any of his past experiences with bodyguards.

Even now, Changbin can sense his presence outside of his doors. Jisung is the elephant in the room, and he can’t quite get rid of him.

Sitting at his desk does nothing to soothe his thoughts, and he finds himself walking over to his balcony. He flings open the doors, stepping outside once more. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it’s already cold.

 _Soon, winter will be here,_ Changbin thinks. _Will Jisung disappear with the warmth?_

—

Changbin throws himself into his work. He reviews budgets and stuffs his head full of protocol and how to negotiate treaties for their upcoming meeting. Not once does he try sneaking off anywhere, because it means having Jisung come after him.

For now, he’s content to sit in his room and flip through pile after pile of paperwork, absorbing as much information as he can. He knows it can only last for so long before someone comes looking for him, but he’s okay with waiting it out.

Perhaps an epiphany will come to him, and he’ll figure out a way to evade Jisung’s prying eyes and willingness to do anything for him. For now, Changbin comes and goes through the passageway leading to his room, even though Jisung catches on soon enough.

It’s easy to get lost in the monotony that follows.

—

Jisung’s waiting for him on the other side of the secret passageway.

“I don’t get it,” He says, arms crossed.

Changbin steps out, sliding the panel back into place with one hand. He juggles folders of paper in the other, and raises an eyebrow at Jisung.

“You’re not running off anymore, but you slip out of your room like you’re under house arrest, lugging stacks of paperwork with you,” Jisung continues. 

“I’m a crown prince,” Changbin responds. He’s frustrated that Jisung managed to catch on so fast. “That means I must follow my duties.”

Jisung peels himself off of the wall. Changbin starts walking down the hall, waiting for Jisung to follow. It doesn’t take long.

“I didn’t realize you had such a productive streak,” Jisung says, amused. “Last I checked, you were desperate to outrun it all.” 

“Last I checked, bodyguard’s aren’t supposed to be so intrusive,” Changbin reminds him. His voice echoes through the hall, bouncing and amplifying, begging to be overheard.

Jisung’s response comes eventually, much quieter than his earlier ones. “I’m just trying to do my job right. You know that.”

Changbin peers down the hall, pretending he didn’t hear him. He has to stop by the council to ask them to review his paperwork, and then up to his father’s office to drop off his budget report for the upcoming year. 

“You cannot avoid me forever,” Jisung says, the words lingering on the walls.

—

The arrow lands into the bullseye with a satisfactory _thud._

Changbin docks another arrow into his bow, and lines up the shot. He really shouldn’t be outside, since the first snowfall could come any day now, but he ran out of busywork.

For the first time in his life, Changbin has nothing work-related to do. Even his father shooed him out of his office earlier, demanding that he go do something else instead of bothering him. His mother is off on a trip, visiting a neighboring kingdom.

Which brings him to the gardens, aiming an arrow at a target. He started out easy, sticking relatively close to the target, but stepping back for every bullseye.

“You should loosen up,” Jisung says, like he knows anything about archery.

Changbin scowls, and releases the arrow with a _snap._ It hits the edge of the target. Frustrated, he docks another arrow, refusing to back down.

“Too tense,” Jisung calls. The arrow whizzes past the target this time.

Changbin tries again, making sure to plant his feet apart and stand up straight.

“Not quite.” Jisung appears to be bored as the arrow sinks into the outer ring of the target.

Changbin turns to face him, annoyed. “I will not listen to your torments while I am practicing. Either be quiet, or leave.”

“How about a proposition?” Jisung offers instead. 

Changbin frowns, but Jisung’s already talking. 

“If you can knock this—” Jisung reaches up to one of the nearby tree branches, pulling off an apple, “—off of the top of my head, I’ll leave you alone.”

Changbin sighs. “And if I maim you?”

Jisung grins, and it’s the kind of smile that makes Changbin want to smile, too. He tries to fight it off, but it’s useless. He feels like this is the sort of thing he should be doing at his age, not figuring out budgets and funding.

“I have fast reflexes,” Jisung shrugs. “Besides, I’m tired of watching you get all huffy whenever you miss. Maybe this will make you get back in focus.”

Changbin thinks about it. He may be off his game, but he doubts it’s enough to seriously hurt Jisung. It’s like he said—it just might be enough to get him focused again.

Jisung throws the apple up and down, catching it in his palm repeatedly as Changbin hesitates.

Finally, after the gesture becomes too monotonous for Changbin to stand, he docks another arrow in his bow.

Jisung smiles, slipping the apple out of his hand and up on top of his head. Surprisingly enough, it doesn’t fall.

“If I hurt you, I’ll probably never forgive myself,” Changbin says, offering him one last chance to back out. While their predicament isn’t exactly favorable, Changbin wishes no harm on Jisung. It’s not his fault he got chosen to be a guard for someone like him.

Jisung stares at him expectantly, appearing almost bored. “You won’t.”

Changbin lets the arrow go with a quiet _swish_.

Jisung doesn’t flinch when the arrow knocks the apple clean off of his head, bouncing down on the ground behind him.

Changbin breathes a sigh of relief.

“You really didn’t think you could do it?” Jisung sounds amused as he leans down to pick up the apple. “Dead center. All it took was a life-or-death situation, huh?”

He smiles up at Changbin, who gapes. “Life-or-death? Did you think…?”

Jisung cuts in. “I wear a bulletproof vest at all times. It was kind of funny to watch you squirm.”

“A bulletproof vest?” Changbin repeats. 

“How am I supposed to protect you otherwise?” Jisung pulls the arrow out of the apple. “Can’t do that if I’m dead.”

Changbin catches the arrow when Jisung throws it, but their conversation is over. 

Jisung doesn’t say a single word for the rest of the time he spends practicing archery, not even when he misses.

—

Felix doesn’t have anything for him.

“Sorry, you know how everything gets around the holidays,” Felix apologizes. He’s restless on his feet, bouncing through the kitchen and checking on various dishes.

Changbin balances his feet above the ground from where he’s sitting on the stool, sulking. It’s only a matter of time before Jisung realizes he snuck down here.

“Not even a cookie?” Changbin tries again. The rest of the staff are accustomed to his presence and they flit about him with ease, carrying plates above him and stepping around him to grab ingredients from the fridge a few steps down.

Felix gives him a pointed look. “Is this about Jisung? Word has it you’ve been extra busy with your duties lately.”

Changbin raises an eyebrow.

“What? People talk.” Felix looks bashful underneath his kitchen uniform. “You’ve never tried to get rid of a bodyguard by actually doing your work for once.”

Changbin shrugs. “I realized stuff like making them think the castle is haunted just wasn’t going to cut it anymore.”

Felix laughs. “Oh, yeah. I remember that. You spooked Minho real bad.”

“Minho?” Changbin’s eyebrows pinch together. “Was that his name?”

Felix nods. “Kind of hard to forget considering you two hated each other in the two weeks you were together.

“I don’t think making vague noises from secret passageways will scare Jisung,” Changbin says, thinking about their trip to the market and his archery practice. “He doesn’t look like the kind of person who scares easily.”

Felix hesitates, putting down his whisk to look at Changbin. “Maybe it’s time to grow up.”

Changbin wants to dismiss the idea. He doesn’t want _this_. There was always a part of him that wished for another sibling while he was growing up, one that could take over for him instead.

“You can’t run forever,” Felix tells him, echoing Jisung’s earlier words to Changbin. “You have a responsibility, and I know you don’t like it and that it’s unfair, but there’s nothing else to do. Maybe you should accept defeat.”

He picks up the whisk again, and starts mixing again. Changbin thinks it’s so he doesn’t have to look him in the eye any longer.

Changbin mulls the idea over, but examining it from every corner and considering endless scenarios does nothing to dull the sharp feeling of being trapped by his fate, closing in on him.

“I should get going,” Changbin finally says. His chair scrapes against the ground. Felix shoots him a look, confused, but doesn’t argue. 

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Jisung’s waiting for him outside of the kitchen, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. 

“You win,” Changbin mutters, brushing past him. He doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Jisung.

Changbin hears Jisung set off after him, though.

—

“I have to admit, spending my days not running after you is quite the improvement.” Jisung sounds pleased behind him. He places a hand on the small of Changbin’s back, ushering him through the crowd.

Changbin’s response is cut off by a person stepping up to speak at the podium. The palace always has charity events in order to keep their favor with the people, and this one is no exception. Changbin wouldn’t mind them if it wasn’t for the ulterior motive behind them.

He takes his place on the stage, with Jisung standing near him. Once the lady starts speaking, Changbin whispers, “Don’t get too used to it.”

Jisung smiles, but neither of them say anything for the duration of the speech. Changbin presents the lady—he can’t remember her name, even though his parents stressed how important tonight was repeatedly—with an award for all her charitable work, and says, “Thank you for what you have done.”

She flashes him a smile, and it’s over. Changbin leaves the stage with Jisung trailing not far behind him, and there’s a flurry of handshakes and greetings. 

Changbin gets exhausted about halfway through, but he doesn’t want to disappear. Not after his conversation with Felix.

Eventually, Jisung cuts in mid conversation. “I’m sorry, sir, but the prince has other obligations to attend to. He wanted to make his rounds before leaving, but it seems he lost track of time trying to get to everyone.”

Jisung smiles. “I’m sure you all understand.”

Changbin eyes Jisung surreptitiously. He has no other obligations tonight, but the people around him don’t know that. They fawn over his willingness to be late for his duties in favor of spending time with his colleagues, but they only know half of the story.

He excuses himself regardless, letting Jisung clear a path for him through the hall and outside the doors.

“I do not have anything else on my schedule,” Changbin finally says.

Jisung keeps walking, down towards the stairs.

“Are you coming?” Jisung pauses long enough to look back at him, his hands in the pocket of his suit as he waits.

Changbin sets off, trying to catch up.

—

“How did you remember the path to get here?” Changbin asks. He hadn’t realized where they were going until they were almost there.

The sky is a dizzy sight full of stars, and the moon lights up the flowers in waves. He can make out most of them, even though it’s well late into the night.

Changbin feels at home. He wonders if Jisung picked up on that the last time he was here, or if it is simply coincidence that he brought him here.

Jisung shrugs, leaning against one of the trees at the edge of the field. “I have a good memory. Do you come here often?”

Changbin hesitates, lingering by the edge of the field. “I guess you could say that. I discovered it by accident when I was younger, and I’ve been coming here ever since.”

When Jisung doesn’t say anything, Changbin’s curiosity wins out.

“Why did you bring me here?” He asks. The question has been itching at him ever since they left the palace grounds.

Jisung’s answer is simple. “You were tired.”

Changbin glances back at him, and sets off for the field. He’s loathe to get his clothes dirty, but neither of them had thought to bring a blanket, so he sits on the ground cross-legged and lets the breeze brush against his skin.

“I don’t understand you,” Changbin finally says, turning back. Jisung is a silhouette underneath the moonlight, tucked against the worn tree trunk. Changbin can barely make him out. Even the tendrils of moonlight barely reach him. He’s too far, too close to the darkness of the foliage.

Changbin plucks a nearby flower from its stem, twirling it between his fingers. It’s hard to make out, but he thinks it might be a daisy, judging from the size. Changbin doesn’t remember learning all of the flowers’ names, but at some point he just _knew._

Jisung doesn’t budge. “Must you understand me? Even princes get overwhelmed sometimes. I was looking out for you.”

“It’s my job, right?” Jisung lets the question hang in the air between them, a reminder of what brought them together.

Changbin doesn’t answer. He’s run out of questions and words and all he wants is to sit here, surrounded by a sea of flowers. 

—

They’ve reached some sort of truce.

Jisung gets off his back every once in a while, and Changbin takes him out to the gardens and names all the flowers he knows, telling him the meaning behind each one.

“Roses aren’t the only flowers that symbolize love,” Changbin says. “Chrysanthemums and tulips do as well. They all show different sides of it.”

His finger hovers over a rose. “These show the dangerous side. Chrysanthemums are about the loyalty that comes with love, and tulips about the confidence it brings.”

Changbin sighs. “I could live here, in the gardens.”

“Is there a particular reason why you’re so attached to the gardens?” Jisung glances over at him, briefly.

“For a long time, the gardens were the first bit of freedom I had ever experienced.” Changbin turns away from the flowers. “I grew up in the palace, surrounded by four walls at all times.”

Jisung smiles. “I can’t imagine you in there. You look like you belong out here, where everything is happening.”

“I get it now,” Jisung tells him, “Why you feel trapped, why you run even though you have everything at your fingertips.”

Changbin sighs. “It took you long enough. I kept trying to tell you, but I could never get through.”

Jisung takes a tentative step closer to him, until their hands brush against each other.

“I’m sorry,” Jisung says. 

—

Seungmin is rather impressive in comparison to Changbin. 

He has every aspect of formalities down to a perfection. Changbin cannot help but be envious; Seungmin is everything Changbin’s parents want him to be.

After introductions are over and everything has bowed to one another and shook hands, Seungmin hooks his arm through Changbin’s.

“Let’s take a walk. I would love to get to know you,” Seungmin says breezily. He turns back to Jisung. “My guards will see to it that he is safe.”

Changbin half-expects Jisung to follow regardless, but the queen smiles and motions for him to stay.

They’re almost out of earshot when Changbin hears her say, “We must respect them, or the treaty we are expected to sign today may fall apart. You understand, of course.”

Whatever their destination is, Changbin can’t tell. Seungmin stops every few seconds to greet diplomats and ambassadors and family members. It’s exhausting, the repeated cycle of bows and formalities.

Changbin doesn’t know how he does it all with a smile on his face. 

It takes some time, but Seungmin says, “My condolences for the delay, but I am sure you understand, being a prince yourself.”

They sweep through the room, past the doors, and down the hall. Seungmin dismisses his guards with a flick of the wrist, much to Changbin’s surprise.

Seungmin looks over at him, and he must notice his surprise because he explains, “I trust them, and they trust me. Maybe not with you, but I do.”

As soon as they are a safe distance away from the ballroom, Seungmin locks his grip on Changbin. He looks him dead in the eyes, and starts speaking quickly.

“Who hired your bodyguard?” Seungmin’s voice is hushed, but urgent. He glances over Changbin’s shoulder, concerned. “Was he vetted? I don’t understand how he passed the security process, especially considering who he works for.” 

“Maybe it was an inside job,” He mutters.

Changbin frowns, overwhelmed by all of the questions. _Who does Jisung work for if it isn’t the royal family, like he originally assumed? Why is Seungmin telling him all of this?_

“I don’t—What are you talking about?” Changbin presses. “We have people who vet guards, and my parents get the final say. I’m not involved in the process.”

Seungmin presses his lips together until they form a thin line.

“Listen to me,” Seungmin starts. Changbin can’t feel his arm. “Do not go anywhere alone with him. Do not reveal any classified intelligence or discuss anything personal. Request a different guard, if you can.”

“Whatever you do, do _not_ put yourself in danger while he is around,” Seungmin says forcefully. 

Seungmin flashes a smile at him, and loosens his death grip as they start walking again. “What a lovely home you have here. It is a bit too cold for my taste—it is far warmer down South, as I am sure you know.”

Changbin forces himself to relax, despite the sinking feeling weighing him down and the flurry of anxiety raising a storm in his chest. He fights down the urge to panic.

“Yes, it can get quite chilly during the winter,” Changbin agrees, his voice shaking slightly.

Seungmin shoots him a look, and Changbin musters the courage to keep his voice even. 

“I spent most of my winters here, in the castle,” He adds as an afterthought.

Seungmin guides him until they’re walking towards the ballroom, away from the palace halls. By silent command, his guards fall into place wordlessly.

“You must visit one of these days,” Seungmin offers politely, “Our kingdom is absolutely exquisite.”

Changbin forces himself to nod in agreement. He doesn’t trust himself to speak any longer.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jisung pressed against the far wall, watching. Icy fear clutches at his chest. While he hadn’t exactly asked Seungmin _who_ Jisung is, he thinks he has an idea of what he meant.

Jisung trails after them as they near the ballroom. If Seungmin notices, or has anything to say about it, he keeps his emotions masked.

Seungmin stays next to him up until the treaty is signed, which means his guards are always within reach. Jisung lingers throughout the room. If he overheard their conversation, Changbin cannot tell.

When their guests leave, Seungmin goes for another handshake. His eyes are determined when Changbin feels a piece of paper against his skin. 

Seungmin smiles. “It was lovely meeting you. Perhaps you and your family would like to visit us sometime. Please stay in touch.”

Changbin nods. “And you, as well.”

He lets his hand fall back to his other one, and he clasps them together by his front. He uses the brief disguise to press the slip of paper up his sleeve, until it’s hidden from view. 

Changbin can feel Jisung watching.

—

The paper is blank. 

Changbin wants to scream out of frustration. He had risked so much by taking it, thinking it had important information or details explaining who Jisung is and what he wants with Changbin.

Even without confirmation from Seungmin, the thought nags at him.

He crumples the slip of paper, bunching it up in his hands. It is only then that something occurs to him.

While Changbin only met him today, he knows that Seungmin is anything if not careful. It would not make sense for him to put his message on the paper explicitly. Changbin bristles with excitement at the revelation.

He smooths out the paper again, and reaches to light a candle. He holds it underneath the paper.

There are multiple ways Seungmin could have done this. When the message doesn’t appear after a few seconds, Changbin gets up.

He hesitates before he reaches the door leading to his bathroom. If the ink is not activated by water, then he’ll never figure out what Seungmin wrote on it.

Curiosity wins the battle. Changbin runs water over the paper, but keeps the flow to a small stream. Just in case. Too late, he wonders if Seungmin wrote in code. Changbin hadn’t studied that extensively, and it would require a bit of time to decode if he did.

Sure enough, Seungmin’s elegant writing shows up. He turns the faucet off, letting the rest of the water drip off the paper. 

There are only 6 words written—no code in sight, luckily for him—but it is enough for Changbin’s blood to run cold.

 _He is here to kill you_.


	2. a taste of fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh? I feel like this is the start of some joke.” The stranger smiles, but Changbin cannot tell if it’s genuine or threatening. “An assassin and crown prince showing up on the doorstep of a former assassin turned target, seeking help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [record scratch] so ur probably wondering how this ended up being three parts. so am i actually

Phrases rush back to Changbin, words that suddenly make a lot more sense.

 _“I take the job I was given very seriously.”_ On his first day, when Changbin couldn’t lose him.

 _He gestures at Changbin’s face, tracing a careful finger along his cheek. “Wouldn’t wanna ruin it so close to the party tonight. It’d be a pain to cover up.”_ The underlying threat when Changbin came back from the field of flowers.

 _“About the blind spot? There’s another one when the guards change shifts, you know. It lasts about 30 seconds if they’re fast enough.”_ The security improvements, most likely tailored to put Jisung at an advantage that Changbin failed to see.

 _“You have your secrets, and I have mine,” Jisung responds, reaching down to loop an arm around Changbin._ He should’ve known. From the second Jisung became clammy about his past, Changbin should’ve known.

Another conversation floods into his memory, taking over.

_“What was that?” Jisung’s by his ear again. “I could’ve sworn you said that you don’t feel safer with me around.”_

_He presses closer, murmuring, “Did you see the man who walked past us about a minute ago? I’m going to assume you didn’t, because he had a knife. Real sharp, too.”_

_Changbin recoils, but he says, “You don’t know if that was meant for me. No one knows what I look like.”_

_“Is that so?” Jisung is smiling. Changbin doesn’t have to look to know. “Well, I guess he’ll never tell us. I knocked him out a few blocks ago. Not that you noticed, that is. You’ve been complaining ever since we left.”_

_This time, Changbin looks back at him, disbelieving. He can feel Felix’s eyes on the both of them, but he ignores him._

_“Why would you do that?” Changbin asks, horrified. “He could’ve been trying to protect himself. You don’t know why he had a knife.”_

_Jisung seems amused by his reaction, like he was expecting it. “Don’t you get it? I’ll do anything to get the job done.”_

Other moments burst to life before him, sprinkled in between the rest. They’re the kind he cannot make sense of, the ones where Jisung is prying into his life, asking him why he cares so little about his own safety and what he’s running from.

None of it makes sense. Changbin thinks about the man with the knife, and wonders if the story is even true, or if it was fabricated to give him a twisted sense of security. Trust built on violence and lies.

Changbin feels sick. It would’ve been easier if Jisung got the job done outright, if what Seungmin even said is true. He wonders what is taking him so long. Jisung probably hadn’t accounted for Changbin’s stubborn nature, but he’s been alone with him plenty of times.

None of it makes sense, Changbin tells himself. Stepping away to let Changbin breathe, remembering where his favorite place to be is and taking him there, urging him to focus on his lessons and care about his duties, about his life.

Changbin doesn’t understand. 

—

“How do you presume to protect me when you don’t carry any weapons?” Changbin asks. It’s taking all the strength in his body not to outright ask him.

 _Are you really here to kill me? An assassin in disguise? Or is Seungmin overly-paranoid?_ He hadn’t even thought to ask how Seungmin recognized him.

A flash of silver underneath Jisung’s suit catches his eye as Jisung holds up his arm, pretending to fix his cuffs. Changbin pushes down the anger flickering to life. As much as he loathes to admit it, he was starting to trust Jisung. Maybe enough to strike up a friendship.

“Don’t ever assume I walk around without weapons,” Jisung responds. “How else would I do my job?”

 _He never says protect,_ Changbin thinks. Any thought of continuing their conversation is delayed by their arrival to the dining hall, where Changbin is meant to have dinner.

Changbin makes him wait outside. He would never forgive himself otherwise. Guilt is gnawing away at him already.

—

Changbin needs to tell someone. Or figure out a way to talk to Seungmin.

He dismisses his parents almost immediately, knowing full well what tactics they would resort to in order to get answers out of Jisung. Changbin’s never quite had the stomach for the hard part of being a royal. His advisors are out of the question, especially since there’s a chance someone on the inside helped Jisung slip through the cracks.

He thinks about Felix. He knows it isn’t fair of him to unload such a burden, but Changbin is running out of options. Seungmin’s too far for him to risk sending a message, unless he were to take a trip.

The answer comes to him in the form of an invitation a few days later, pressed closed with a fancy green seal and Changbin’s name written in elegant cursive.

“You must’ve impressed him,” The queen notes, smiling.

Changbin forces a smile. “We got along well when they were in attendance for the treaty.”

“You should start making arrangements,” She says, leaning over to squeeze his free hand. 

Changbin nods, staring at the invitation he holds. The paper is thick, a heavy reminder of what is to come. Seungmin’s turning 20, and it’s just the opportunity Changbin has been looking for.

“Will you and Father be in attendance?” Changbin asks. He’s hoping they’re too busy to attend; it’s easier to sneak around when they aren’t keeping an eye on him.

She shakes her head. “We already have arrangements for another event, but I’m going to send a gift from us with you. Don’t forget to pick it up before you leave.”

Changbin feigns disappointment, and leaves her with a kiss to the forehead and the promise to prepare everything himself.

—

Changbin’s glad he’s wearing his dark green suit with hints of gold. It matches the theme of the party, which is situated in a large room deep within the castle. Tall walls rise to meet an equally tall ceiling, lights strung on thin, green wires that extend far above him. They wash the room in a soft, golden light.

It’s impressive. There are scores of people present, each one elaborately more fancy than the next. Changbin glances down at his own outfit with a frown.

Even Jisung is surprised. “I thought _you_ were rich.”

Changbin ignores him—he doesn’t know what to do or say anymore—craning his neck in search of Seungmin. A ball of anxiety claws at his chest, growing more and more insistent the longer he stands by the dessert table, uneasy.

He finally spots him standing next to his parents, who look particularly unhappy for their son’s birthday. Seungmin, however, outshines them both. Changbin sets off towards him, holding his excuse to talk to him in his hand, meticulously wrapped by himself. He dropped off his parents’ gift earlier, but wanted to leave his own present for later.

Jisung is a few steps behind. Changbin can hear him, but he pretends not to. 

He dips into a bow when he approaches the royal family of Estene, hoping to win them over with his manners to make up for his reputation.

They bow in return, greeting him much more warmly than expected. The edge of irritation on their faces does not disappear, however, and Changbin forces himself to look at Seungmin.

“This is for you,” He manages, holding out the rectangular box. It’s bright white against the soft glow of the room, but Seungmin doesn’t mind. He accepts it graciously, setting it on the table next to him, lined high with presents.

Changbin swallows uneasily.

It took him more time than he wanted to settle on a present, but he eventually chose a brooch. Gold, because he knows there’s nothing royals love more than expensive jewelry.

Seungmin smiles. “Thank you so much! Isn’t this all lovely? Let me show you around as thanks for your hospitality the last time we saw each other.”

He loops his arm through Changbin’s again, and they set off through the crowd.

“I do hope you can excuse the looks on my parents' faces,” Seungmin says, rather cheery despite it all. “They were disappointed to find out that…”

Seungmin hesitates. “Let’s just say their marriage alliance for me did not go how they hoped.”

“They set one up for you?” Changbin asks. He did not breach the topic with his parents yet, hoping they would let him cross that bridge on his own.

Seungmin nods, sweeping them across the room with ease. Everything about him is picture perfect, from his styled hair to the jewelry lining his wrists and fingers, to the lightbulb-bright smile he fixes upon each guest. Seungmin is meticulous in ways Changbin never thought possible.

Changbin fights the urge to sigh. _Is this what my parents expect of me?_

He doesn’t miss the guards that follow their every step, each wearing matching uniforms to set them apart from the rest of the crowd.

Seungmin leaves them behind when they step through the doors leading to the rest of the castle.

Changbin can still see Jisung, weaving his way towards them.

Seungmin doesn’t bat an eye at Jisung materializing in front of them. “We will be back shortly. I am just going to show him around my home, if you don’t mind.”

Jisung _does_ mind. Changbin can tell from the way his fingers curl up into fists by his sides, but he doesn’t protest. Not outright, at least.

“You have 10 minutes before I assume something has happened,” Jisung says. “I don’t care about treaties or diplomacy like you guys do, so don’t start any of that with me.”

Seungmin smiles. “You have nothing to worry about. I promise.”

Seungmin tugs Changbin along without waiting for Jisung to respond, chatting ambivalently about his home. 

“—and this is where I slipped and broke my arm when I was 9,” Seungmin points out, “My parents insisted on following me around to make sure I wasn’t running around on the marble floors.”

Changbin chokes out a laugh to drown out the anxiety roaring in his ears. “I didn’t realize being royal was a universal experience, what with our parents hovering over us all the time.”

“They want to look after us,” Seungmin answers lightly. He gestures to the windows on their far right, still keeping up his ruse. “Our gardens are beyond those windows over there. My mother tends to them herself.”

“Do you mind if we take a look?” Changbin asks, unable to stop himself from latching onto the lifeline. _Like Seungmin already knows._

Seungmin nods. “Right this way.”

—

“Either you did not get my message, or you are extremely stupid and hold little to no regard for your safety,” Seungmin hisses the second they are alone. He looks up from the bed of roses, waiting for Changbin to speak.

Changbin can’t meet his eyes. “Is it true? I mean, how do you even know? He’s never done anything to put me in danger.”

Seungmin purses his lips. “I can’t tell you. We may be allies now, but I still can’t reveal classified information. Not even his file.”

Seungmin drops the last sentence like a bomb, and watches it explode in front of Changbin. It’s dangerous, letting Changbin know that they have a record on Jisung, but it’s almost enough to convince him.

“I see.” Changbin’s fingers trail across a rose, nicking a thorn by accident. He winces. “I got your message, if you were wondering. I’m not stupid.”

Seungmin glances around the gardens, looking for any unwanted eavesdroppers.

“He can come work for me instead,” He offers, and there’s a hungry look in his eyes that Changbin doesn’t understand. “Give him something he can’t refuse—good pay, someone who won’t try to evade him every chance he gets—and arrest him once he comes.”

Seungmin pauses. “But only if you’re okay with that. Politics are still politics, after all, and I can’t stop you from getting assassinated if you refuse to accept my help. Of course, your family can never know I knew. I will make sure of that.”

Changbin rethinks his impression of Seungmin, adding _cunning_ to the list. 

“I don’t know how to get rid of him,” Changbin admits. “He’s here for a reason, isn’t he? He won’t leave easily.”

Changbin stares at the garden surrounding them, brought to life with tenderness and careful hands. He longs for his own garden.

“I don’t know,” Changbin repeats. “I should know what to do, but I don’t.”

Seungmin sighs. “He can’t blow his cover if you hire new security to replace him, no matter how high up his orders come from. Discretion is of the utmost importance, which is why I would be willing to get my hands on him instead.”

Changbin bites his tongue, not wanting to respond. He speaks as if Jisung is nothing but a box to be checked off of a list, and it is deeply unsettling. 

Seungmin plucks a red carnation from one of the plants easily, twirling it between his fingers.

“My mother used to tell me that giving someone one of these meant your heart aches for them,” Seungmin says absentmindedly. “You are attached to him for reasons I don’t understand, so my heart aches for you, and what is to come of this.”

He presses the flower into Changbin’s palm, his hands surprisingly cold. He cups Changbin’s hand with his own, curling his fingers up to enclose the flower. 

“Keep this,” Seungmin insists, all traces of friendliness wiped off of his face. “Let it be a reminder that you chose this path willingly.”

—

Jisung’s waiting for him. Changbin slows, but Seungmin can’t afford to. He glances back towards the party, and Changbin mistakes his calculating look for hesitation.

Changbin lets him go. He and Jisung hang back, on the fringes of the party, watching from the sidelines. Changbin steps away, back into the hall.

“He doesn’t like me,” Jisung finally says, his hands in his suit pockets. “Any particular reason why?”

“Don’t you already know?” Changbin retorts, refusing to look at him. “You do, don’t you? That’s why you’re asking.”

Jisung’s silence says everything he needs to know. Changbin presses his lips together.

“It’s complicated,” Jisung finally says.

Changbin presses closer, caging him against the wall.

“ _Complicated?_ My life is complicated?” Changbin asks, forgetting about the very public area they are standing in. “Lying to me is complicated? Hiding your past from everyone is complicated? Being a _killer_ is complicated?”

Changbin jabs a finger against Jisung’s chest. “You don’t get to decide what’s complicated.”

Jisung stares at him, and Changbin so badly wants to dissect the look on his face. Peel back every layer until he’s staring at the truth and nothing but the truth.

“Why haven’t you done it yet, Jisung?” Changbin refuses to look away. Part of him knows he should be scared, but anger washes away all of his fear in one large, swooping wave. “You’ve had plenty of chances to do it.”

His voice echoes in the empty hallway, and he remembers to lower it. 

“After all, you’re my bodyguard. What better way to get rid of the royal bloodline? I would’ve never seen it coming. The same goes for my parents. After all, they’re the ones who had the last say in you being hired.” Changbin takes a staggering breath, trying to hold himself together by the threads, but they are unraveling faster than he can catch up.

“Seungmin told you, didn’t he? I don’t even understand how he recognized me. I’ve never seen him before all this,” Jisung says instead, ignoring everything Changbin said.

“I am speaking to you,” Changbin says coldly. “I know you carry knives with you at all times—I asked you if you carry weapons for this very reason—so why am I still alive?”

He grabs Jisung’s hand, pressing it against his chest. “Do you feel that? The way my heart is beating? I know you can.”

Jisung looks away from him, a flicker of emotion shadowing his face. It’s gone as fast as it came, leaving Changbin more confused than ever. He withdraws his hand from Changbin’s chest.

“There’s something oddly human about you,” Jisung finally murmurs, and it’s not the response he expected. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

Changbin laughs; he can’t help it. Nothing's making sense to him.

“I was assigned to you as a reprimand. A punishment of sorts,” Jisung says. “I was going soft, my boss said. So he gave me a high-risk target, and told me that it was either your life or mine.”

“I’ve never personally interacted with my targets before this,” Jisung continues. “He must’ve wanted to see whether or not I could do it. Pretend to care long enough to complete the mission.”

“Just like how he taught me,” Jisung says quietly, and Changbin flinches.

He recovers quickly though, shaking his head. “How am I supposed to believe anything you say? All those times you said you were doing your job, when you told me I should hold my life in higher regards—were you just messing with me?”

Jisung grabs his wrist, forcing Changbin to look him in the eye. “You trusted Seungmin. Now, I’m asking you to trust me.”

Changbin shakes off his grip, not buying into it.

“You really expect me to believe that you had a change of heart? That what you’re telling me is the truth?” Changbin steps back. “Cold-blooded assassin turned bodyguard with a conscience and moral compass and burning desire to protect me?”

“Let me guess; you’re not like the rest of them.” Changbin smiles, but nothing about it is the slightest bit kind. “You never wanted this life to begin with. You were forced into it, born into a family of killers. Or maybe you made the wrong friends, ran with the wrong crowd and now you’re stuck.”

“Something like that,” Jisung cuts in. There’s a hollow, faraway look in his eyes as he speaks. 

“Spare me the sob story,” Changbin snaps. “You could’ve run instead of coming here. Surely you know how to disappear, considering you were able to slip through the security process.”

He pauses. 

“Who helped you?” Changbin asks quietly. “Who betrayed me to get you here? Other than you.”

Jisung is unmoving. Changbin knows that there are about a hundred different ways that Jisung could overpower him considering his background, but he stays where he is. Waiting.

“No one,” Jisung answers. “They made sure no one would find out. I don’t understand how Seungmin did. Only the people I work for know who I am.”

A nagging suspicion brushes up against the edges of his mind, but he ignores it, too overwhelmed to think much of it.

Changbin moves back, taking a step forward instead of running to Seungmin and begging him to get Jisung off his hands. From the start, he’s dealt with this wrong. Jisung should be in jail, but Changbin couldn’t bear to do it.

Even now, looking him in the eyes, Changbin doesn’t think he can do it. Putting people in jail and punishing them—it’s never been his strong suit. 

Royally speaking, Changbin is weak. Weak in the grand scheme of things, weak on empathy, weak on all the ways they have become attached, but worst of all, weak on _Jisung._

“They have information on you,” Changbin admits, even though he shouldn’t. “Tell any of your little friends I told you and the next arrow I shoot _will_ be at your heart, and not your head.”

Jisung smiles, crooked and all too bright. He reaches for Changbin’s hand, pressing it against his own chest this time. No heartbeat reverberates against his touch.

“I’m bulletproof, remember? Not even your arrows can make it through.” Jisung’s fingers are cold, but Changbin doesn’t pull away. “There’s no point in threatening me. You’re unarmed, and even if I do end up dead, there will be hell to pay. Do you understand?”

A noise of frustration bubbles up in Changbin’s throat, low and heavy. 

“If _I_ end up dead, there will be hell to pay. You will be the first to pay it. There’s no such thing as mercy where I come from,” Changbin tells him, an unspoken question slipped between the words.

_Are you really going to kill me, like Seungmin warned me?_

The red carnation is heavy where it is pressed against his suit pocket, a brazen reminder of his decisions. He fights the urge to throw it away.

“No such as thing as mercy,” Jisung repeats, his voice hollow. He laughs. “If only you knew.”

Changbin pulls his hand away, letting it fall against his side instead.

“It’s a catch 22,” Jisung tells him, “Did your fancy tutoring lessons in the palace teach you about those? About the constant push and pull?”

As if proving a point, he keeps pushing, taking Changbin’s silence as encouragement. “I can’t kill you, and you can’t kill me.”

“Who’s to say I can’t kill you?” Changbin cocks his head to the side. “You already told me I don’t have a mole among the staff, and you wouldn’t be able to talk.”

“ _Won’t_ kill me,” Jisung corrects. “You’ve started to accept having me around. I can tell, you know. Things have changed since I first came by your side.”

Changbin dismisses the idea with a wave of his hand. “That was before I found out. You don’t know what I’m thinking or planning on doing.”

“Yeah?” Jisung hooks his fingers under Changbin’s chin, tilting his head so he’s looking straight into his eyes. A challenge begging to be beaten. “Then why am I still kicking? Why am I not scared of dying right now?”

Jisung lets go, stepping away from him. Away from the wall, and back towards the party like their conversation never happened. He eyes Changbin one last time, and says, “You don’t have the stomach for it, do you?”

—

Changbin comes back with more questions unanswered than before he left. He comes back with Jisung by his side and the weight of their conversation hanging over his shoulders.

Jisung stares at him as they make their way inside of the palace, watching for any signs that Changbin changed his mind. They both know that Changbin isn’t going to do anything, so he dismisses him with a flick of his wrist.

Maybe, just maybe, he could’ve found a friend in Seungmin if he wanted to live his life the same way. Stiff and bleeding with formalities, a facade created to hide the tough mindset needed to be a royal, the one that helps him swim through the politics of it all.

Changbin doesn’t want any of that. He never has.

The one thing he is completely, fully, unequivocally and wholly sure about is that when he looks at Jisung, he isn’t scared. Not one bit, even though he should be.

—

Changbin spends less and less time within the walls of the castle. It’s difficult to keep making excuses—the older he gets, the more responsibilities that come with the job—but he refuses to give up. 

His office only amplifies the hollow, echoing feeling that bounces around his ribcage when he stares at sheets of white paper that describe the state of the kingdom. He’s tired of it. He prefers the outdoors, where no one can find him and the familiar smells of the meadow surround him.

“Are you ever going to get rid of me?” Jisung asks, breaking the oh-so careful silence in the meadow. Jisung always knows where to find him, but Changbin also has a knack for predictability. 

He thinks about Jisung saying that tracking is easy, and finds another missing piece of the puzzle. _I should’ve known,_ Changbin thinks distantly. _Tracking skills, secretive past, bulletproof vest. Keeping me safe so that no one else could finish the job for him._

Changbin closes his eyes, still laying on the ground. “No. I don’t see any reason to. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, right? If I get another bodyguard, I’ll never know their true motive. At least I know yours.”

“You don’t,” Jisung says. “I’m not going to kill you.”

“Yeah?” Changbin blinks open one eye, glancing over to the side. To his surprise, Jisung leans against a fallen log, an arm's length away.

He looks calm. Serene, almost. He fits in with the flowers and clumps of weed sticking up and through the dirt, even though he shouldn’t.

“Do you really think we’re enemies?” Jisung presses. “Even after everything?”

Changbin frowns. “You’re an assassin, sent to kill yours truly—the sole heir to the throne, the last remaining chance for my family to continue ruling the kingdom—and you think we’re anything _but_ enemies?”

Jisung stares at him, too quiet for Changbin’s liking.

“I wanted to be part of it.” It sounds like a secret being unveiled in the dead of the night, but Changbin doesn’t understand. “Your life. I wanted the kitchen trips and the little family you and Felix have going on together.”

“I wanted the fancy clothes and lessons and the gardens you always get so lost in, and everything else that you seem to take for granted.” Jisung hesitates. “Everything felt so normal. Comfortable, even. It was so easy to fall into your routine.”

Changbin squashes down the flare of sympathy that blooms in his chest.

“You want it? Fine.” Changbin sits up, unable to hold it back any longer. “If you want it, be sure to take the stacks of paperwork lying on my desk. Take the advisory meetings and all the difficult decisions I have to make. Where to station troops, how to punish people—people who can’t provide for their family, so they steal and lie because they have no other choice—what to do about the rebellious flare-ups every once in a while, because as good as this kingdom is, it’s also damaged.”

“Take the award ceremonies.” Changbin can’t look at Jisung. “Because after a day of arguing with people about what to do with the poverty rate and all the hungry people we keep sending to jail, the last thing I want to do is present awards to obnoxiously rich people who don’t understand.”

Changbin can’t hear anything over the sound of blood roaring in his ears. He’s never had an outlet before.

“I’m sick of the monthly court my parents hold to sort out disputes. I’m sick of sentencing people lengthy sentences for petty crimes to prove a point.” Changbin finally looks up at Jisung. “Don’t you see? All we do is tear families apart. The palace is not a home.”

Jisung pulls his knees to his chest instead of responding. It is an odd sight, the two of them sitting in a field, wearing fancy clothes. Changbin’s jacket hugs his skin too tightly, chafing against it each time he shifts.

“I’ve never seen you do that,” He says quietly.

Changbin shakes his head, frustrated. “I stopped going. I refused. Their families all hate us. I see it in their eyes each time a sentence is delivered. After a while, I stopped looking and that just made them more angry.”

“So take it all. I don’t want it,” Changbin snaps, his anger rebounding back. “I’m sick of moral dilemmas and having to watch over my shoulder every second I spend in the castle. No one understands it. My family, they’ve been part of this their entire lives. They were born for it. You have a misplaced sense of home. This place will never be that to you.”

“And I’m not saying that because I hate you and I’m a terrible person who wishes the worst on my former assassin-turned-bodyguard,” Changbin continues, even though he doesn’t quite believe it himself. “I want you to know that palaces aren’t designed to be home, and that this one will never be that for you.”

“Places aren’t home.” Changbin picks at the petals of a flower, gently pulling them off. He looks back up at Jisung, determined to switch out a lie for a truth. “ _People_ are.”

—

Changbin can’t stand staying in his study. Each step inside of it reminds him of the stack of papers on his desk, weighing down on him.

He goes to Felix instead. The kitchen is the sole place in the palace he can stand in and not feel overwhelmed.

Jisung doesn’t question it, but he does say, “It’s only a matter of time before they get tired of you ignoring your schedule.”

“Let them.” Changbin opens the door to the kitchen, slipping inside. As per usual, it’s bustling with people and warmth.

Jisung falls silent. Changbin takes it as his cue to search for Felix. It doesn’t take him long, considering Felix spots him first.

Felix sighs, balancing a cake on a golden platter. “You’re running again.”

Changbin shoots back, “It’s my only option.”

(If he stops, then everything will catch up to him. Jisung’s past, Seungmin and the hint of ruthlessness he had seen during his visit, whoever Jisung works for. It’ll come crashing down on him).

Felix eyes him carefully, searching for emotions Changbin knows he can’t see and thoughts he will never read.

“Come with me,” Felix finally says. “I’m putting you to work. Ask Jisung if he wants to help, too.”

Changbin opens his mouth to shoot him down on the basis that they don’t _need_ Jisung, but he remembers their time outside, how Jisung wants nothing more than to be part of _something_ , and he relents.

He turns around, motioning for Jisung to join them. He tells himself it’s fine, because Jisung would never try to attempt murder in a crowd full of people, and also because he’s turning over a new leaf.

Supposedly. Changbin still doesn’t trust that, but he’s keen on keeping his enemies close, so he tries to remain ambivalent.

“Felix needs our help,” Changbin clarifies.

Jisung raises an eyebrow. “Is this a security issue?”

Felix laughs, the sound breaking through all the shouts and orders flying around the kitchen. “Not at all. It’s a baking issue. How much experience do you have in the kitchen?”

“Very little.” Jisung glances over at Changbin, almost as if he wants to ask him something, but is afraid to. “I will do my best to help in whatever way I can, if you truly need me.”

Felix gives the both of them a once-over and ushers them outside. He shoves an armful of clothes at them, and says, “Come back when you’re presentable.”

—

A few minutes later, they’re all similarly dressed. The kitchen uniforms are loose, a bit too big on him, but Changbin doesn’t care. He feels _normal_ for the first time in years.

He can’t read the look in Jisung’s face, but he forgets about it as soon as Felix spots them.

Felix sighs fondly, giving them a once-over. “I can’t explain it, but this feels right.”

Changbin sets off after him. Felix puts him in charge of decorating, thanks to all the years they spent together, hiding from Changbin’s parents and learning how to make the perfect sugar roses.

Felix hands Jisung a bowl and a whisk. “Not too fast, but not too slow. I want it to be a thick and creamy consistency. Make sure _everything_ is mixed well.”

“Well?” Felix gestures to the bowl. “Get on it. I don’t have all day.”

Felix walks off, blending into the bustling rhythm of the kitchen. Changbin smiles despite himself. “It’s the holiday season. He’s always like that around this time of year.”

It should feel wrong, sharing moments with Jisung and letting him into the most coveted parts of his life, but Changbin doesn’t have anything to lose at this point. His life has been on the line for as long as he can remember.

Jisung sets down the bowl, picking up the whisk. He eyes Changbin, who spins a cake platter slowly as he frosts the sides.

When Changbin doesn’t hear the familiar sound of the whisk hitting the side of the bowl, he straightens back up, setting down the frosting bag. 

“I’ll show you.” Changbin nudges Jisung in a silent reminder to move, and picks up the whisk for him. “You have to be careful, or you’ll end up with bits of flour not mixed into the batter.”

Jisung nods. “Let me try.”

Changbin hands him the whisk, already walking back to his own dessert. Still, he glances back at Jisung every once in a while, just to be sure.

“Is this good?” Jisung finally asks. Changbin bites his lip, focused on the placement of one of his fondant flowers. Felix didn’t specify about the decorations, but they’re easy to remove if he had something else in mind.

He presses it into place with a dot of icing, satisfied. “Let me see.”

Changbin peers into the bowl, surprised to find it evenly mixed. Not even a second later, Felix is back.

“Pretty good for someone who’s never picked up a whisk in their life,” Felix admits, “What sort of childhood did you even have if you’ve never baked?”

Changbin freezes. Felix is dancing dangerously close, and he doesn’t know what to do if it takes a wrong turn.

Jisung doesn’t bat an eye. “A boring one, obviously. Why didn’t I do this sooner?”

Felix smiles, and Changbin relaxes.

“You can come work for me instead,” Felix teases, nudging Changbin playfully. “We could use the help.”

Jisung cracks a smile, a rare display of emotion. “I have my hands full with the prince, as I am sure you’re aware.”

“Oh, I am,” Felix says breezily, and they fall into a sort of rhythm of mixing and frosting. Felix flits from here and there, checking in with the rest of his staff and making sure everything is going okay.

Changbin glances over at Jisung from time to time. _Is this really what you want? To belong? Or am I foolish for somewhat buying into it?_

He doesn’t risk asking Jisung, not in a crowded kitchen where the wrong person could overhear their conversation at the wrong time. He thinks about Jisung’s boss, and the mission he never carried out, and how it won’t go unnoticed.

Changbin blinks back to reality at the sound of Jisung speaking to one of the kitchen staff. The staff member becomes more and more animated as they talk, waving their hands and gesturing towards the desserts laid out in front of them.

Jisung is far more reserved in turn, but Changbin can tell that he’s amicable as well, even from where he’s standing.

Felix nudges Changbin’s shoulder. “Your frosting is crooked.”

Changbin looks down at the cake in front of him, noticing the line of frosting that slowly starts to trail away from the cake itself.

He sighs. “I’ll fix it. I don’t know how I got so distracted.”

Felix wipes the frosting off without batting an eye, making sure the rest of it is untouched. 

“I wonder what has you so distracted,” Felix muses, but there isn’t a single trace of confusion written on his face. He eyes Changbin knowingly. 

“If only you knew,” Changbin answers, lost in his own world, but he doesn’t elaborate. 

—

Later that day, he sends Felix a note. 

_Take the next week or so off. Don’t question it or say anything to the rest of the staff. I can’t send everyone home, or it’ll arouse suspicion. A simple security precaution. Nothing to worry about._

Changbin watches the ink disappear with satisfaction. Felix will figure it out; he’s smart.

—

Jisung leans back against the wall next to the doors leading to Changbin’s room, head tilted back.

He doesn’t open his eyes, but he tells him, “This is all going to circle around and come back to us.”

Changbin pauses, his hand hovering over the door handle.

“When?” He asks. He lets his hand drop back to his side, unsure of how long they’re going to stand here, but all Jisung says in response is, “Soon.”

Uneasiness is a cold, thick feeling. It burrows deep into his chest, through his ribcage, curling up and making a home inside of his bones. Changbin doesn’t fight it. He knows Jisung is right. They can’t keep playing this game forever.

—

Jisung offers Changbin his story in small, delicate pieces. He so desperately wants to cup them in his hands, to keep them safe.

“I was young and impressionable.” Jisung says in the dead of the night. “My boss is very charming, you see.”

“When he wants something from you, he makes everything sound so grand.” Jisung falls quiet for a moment. “I thought I would be a hero.”

“You were a kid,” Changbin guesses, but he knows he’s right. “It’s not your fault. You got taken in by the wrong person, and fell into the wrong crowd. Like I said.”

Jisung shakes his head. “He trained me himself. I knew what I was in for as soon as he taught me all the different ways to kill someone without a weapon. I could’ve left, but I chose to stay.”

“You can’t stand being in the palace because of how trapped it makes you feel, because of the dilemmas and ethics that come with it, but none of that bothers me. Not since I started working for him,” Jisung admits.

Changbin shifts uneasily. _How does it not bother him? Surely he would change his mind after a certain amount of time. No one is immune to the difficulties that come with being a royal._

“I came to the palace with every intention to kill you,” Jisung tells him honestly. His voice is raw, unfiltered. “I don’t know when that changed, but it did and I don’t know what to make of it.”

“I told him that I didn’t carry out my last job because it was too crowded and I couldn’t get a good shot in.” Jisung leans back on the log, but Changbin can see him, clear as day. White button-up pushed up to his elbows and tie loosened. It’s the first time Changbin’s ever seen him disheveled.

“In reality, I didn’t like the idea of doing it in broad daylight, but he mistook it for pity.” Jisung plucks a strand of grass from the ground, twirling it experimentally. “Maybe he was right, and I was lying to myself. I let _you_ live.”

Changbin speaks up for the first time in minutes, trying to even out the shakiness of his voice. “I think you’re human, and that you’ve made mistakes. I think you’re starting to realize that what you’re doing is wrong, that he got into your head all those years ago.”

Jisung shakes his head. “This is all on me. I made those decisions, not him.”

Changbin crosses his arms. He can’t fight the urge to defend Jisung, no matter how badly he wants to. 

“You have to stop taking all the responsibility. When he taught you how to kill someone, did you ask him to do that? Did you ask for all the assignments and the targets? You didn’t want to kill the target you had before me.” Changbin’s voice is too loud, but he doesn’t backtrack. “You can tell yourself it was purely due to convenience, but I don’t believe it.”

“He manipulated you,” Changbin continues, “It’s only a matter of time before you realize it. You didn’t come to him without any morals or what’s considered right and wrong. He must’ve said or done something to make you think otherwise.”

Jisung’s silence tells Changbin everything he needs to know.

“You know I’m right. That there was always something that never quite made sense but you kept trying to justify it because you thought he knew better than you,” Changbin presses.

Jisung won’t look at him, but he says, “He always told me I was doing the right thing. That all those people did awful things, that they didn’t deserve to live, but he never explained anything about them. He made me believe I was a vigilante of some sorts, righting wrongs and serving justice.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and Changbin’s crossing the meadow before he can think to stop himself. He reaches out, enveloping Jisung’s hands in his own.

“That’s his fault. Not yours. You operated under the impression that you were doing the right thing, and yes, maybe your sense of right and wrong wasn’t exactly perfect, but he’s the one who twisted it,” Changbin soothes.

Jisung won’t look at him. “You don’t get it. You’re a good person. You have a line separating what’s right and wrong; you always have.”

“Really?” Changbin leans over to the side, so that Jisung _has_ to look at him. “Because I’ve done bad things too. I’m not perfect, and neither are you. No one is.”

“We are not the same,” Jisung says quietly. “I don’t think we ever will be.”

“I don’t know why we’re still doing this,” He adds hurriedly, “Why I’m still your bodyguard and you haven’t had me killed or locked up, but whatever the reasons are, I don’t understand.”

Changbin cocks his head to the side, surprised. “Don’t you remember? You asked me to trust you.”

—

 _“They’re going to come after you if I don’t. My timer is ticking away; each day you spend alive is another day they plan an attack to finish off the job for me.”_ Changbin tears down the hall, his feet pounding against marble floors and sending tendrils of pain up his legs.

 _“I can give you a rough idea of what my boss would plan. However, this doesn’t mean it’s set in stone. My boss is a powerful person, but I’m guessing they’ve been infiltrating the palace for a few weeks now. You can’t trust anyone. Not even Felix.”_ Fighting off the first two was easy. Changbin knows something is wrong. 

_“They know about the secret passageways. My boss is the one who told me about them, but not even he knew all of them. Chances are, you can use the older, less known ones to escape if things go our way. He’d never divulge that information to his lower-ranked men.”_ Changbin turns a corner, skidding to a stop when he notices the soldier standing in front to him.

 _“His men won’t kill you. Not on sight.”_ Changbin lunges forward first, prepared to fight but the guard backs off, letting him go. The look on his face is enough explanation.

 _“On the very likely chance you don’t escape, my boss is going to want to meet you_. _You’re going to walk away alive, because he just wants you to know who he is, and that you should fear him.”_ Changbin doesn’t question it, slipping past a false panel and into a dimly-lit passageway.

 _“Whatever you do, don’t let him get inside of your head. It will break you. Maybe not right away, but as time goes on, it’ll get worse.”_ Changbin braces himself against the wall, taking in lungful after lungful of air. His heartbeat is roaring to life in his ears, but he isn’t listening. 

_“He will separate us. You won’t even notice until it’s too late. Most likely, your family will remain unharmed. I don’t think they’re being targeted. Whatever the reason, my boss is targeting you, and you only.”_ Changbin’s thinking about his family—how they left for an emergency trip mere hours ago, and how convenient it was—when he hears footsteps a second too late. A hand clamps down on his mouth, but it is too dark to make out whose come for him.

Changbin bites down on skin, trying to push off the attacker. The element of surprise gives him a slight advantage, and he keeps pushing until the person is on the ground. He hovers over them, knees on either side of their body.

“Who are you?” Changbin demands. “What do you want with me?”

“Who am _I_?” The voice is oddly familiar. There’s a pause, followed by a hesitant, “Changbin?”

Changbin breathes a sigh of relief. “It’s you.”

Changbin pulls himself off the ground, holding out a hand for him. Jisung’s never addressed him by name, and it leaves him reeling.

“I didn’t know who you were,” Jisung wheezes, accepting Changbin’s hand. His fingers are as cold as always. Changbin hadn’t even realized that he knocked the wind out of him. 

He lets go as soon as Jisung’s standing, wrapping his arms around himself. Fear has caught up to him by now, but he doesn’t want to admit it to Jisung.

“You have to face him eventually,” Jisung says, reaching out for him.

Changbin steps back. “The first two attacked me. The next one let me go. He didn’t say a single word, just watched me go.”

Jisung drops his arm, keeping a safe distance. It’s too murky in the passageway for Changbin to get a read on him, and he gives up after a couple of seconds pass in the darkness.

“We should find him instead,” Jisung reminds him. “Skip the psychological torture and get it over with before he finds us. I know I said you should escape, but you’ve spent enough time running, haven’t you?”

“Only if you stay here,” Changbin insists. He doesn’t want to stop running, wants to keep going until his knees are jello and he’s left everything behind. “There’s no knowing what he’ll do to you. He wants me alive, not you.”

Jisung doesn’t bat an eye. “I can’t stay here with you forever. You know that. I have to face the consequences eventually. Keeping you alive was the final nail on my coffin. Hiding won’t change that.”

“Besides,” Jisung smiles, a rarity for him, “I have a plan.”

He sets off down the hall, ignoring Changbin’s pleas for him to stop. 

Eventually, Changbin doesn’t have a choice. He follows after him, despite the nagging suspicion that everything is about to go terribly wrong.

—

The boss is holding a red carnation, seated behind Changbin’s desk. His feet are stretched across the top of it, and he twists the flower between his fingers. It’s the last place they had expected to find him, in Changbin’s study.

He’s much younger than Changbin expected, with long, silver hair slicked back and a startlingly dark pair of eyes that never leave his face. The worst is that he looks nowhere near out of place, with his suit and fancy black shoes.

Changbin hates him for it.

“You came to me.” He sounds impressed, either by their braveness or their utter stupidity. “The crown prince, and his loyal bodyguard.”

His smile is sickly sweet. Dangerous.

He sighs. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me?” He points the carnation between the two of them. “Jisung here couldn’t bring himself to do it, so the big boss had to intervene. You never had a chance to meet him, Jisung. Well, not knowingly.”

The flower swings like a pendulum, finally landing on Changbin. “Except that didn’t work either. You wouldn’t give him up, even after he told you the truth.”

Changbin sucks in a sharp breath. _Seungmin._

Jisung eyes him, confused. 

“Oh?” He’s downright delighted by Jisung’s confusion. “You didn’t tell him? Please, sit down. The both of you.”

His smile tells Changbin it is not an invitation, but a command. Neither of them hesitate.

“Let’s chat, shall we?” Every inch of Changbin’s skin crawls when he speaks. “You see here, Jisung, Seungmin gave Changbin the option of getting rid of you under the premise that he and his family knew about your background about who you were.”

“It was a lie, of course. They do know about you, but not in the way Changbin here thought,” He says. “Seungmin comes from a long line of assassins, but he never had the guts to get his hands dirty. That’s where I come in, and where Jisung comes in.”

He pauses. “He wanted to get you out of the palace, and into _my_ hands. For disobeying orders, of course. Such a matter is not to be taken lightly, and my orders do come from a higher chain of command.”

Changbin tastes bile in his mouth.

“You work for Seungmin?” It’s the first time Changbin’s directly addressed him.

His smile widens. “Very good, your majesty. He wasn’t supposed to reveal Jisung’s true purpose to you, but he got tired of waiting and figured it would be enough to get you to give him up. He was meant to extricate him out of the palace, but you wouldn’t let him do it.”

He slides the red carnation across the desk, towards Changbin. 

“Loyal to the very end. At first I thought you wanted to punish him yourself—in which case I would have not intervened—but I soon learned that was not the case,” He speaks slowly, waiting for Changbin to process the information.

He turns towards Changbin. “Seungmin told me to give you this, as a parting reminder. He said you would understand.”

Changbin stares at the carnation. It looks different than the one he’s made a terrible habit of carrying around—dried up and pressed flat from time and wear—the color a deeper, darker shade of red.

“He lied to me,” Changbin says, finally finding his voice. “They symbolize death, don’t they?”

Hyunjin cocks his head to the side. “Maybe. I don’t care about silly little things like flowers, but hey, bosses’ orders. I’m merely the messenger.”

Jisung cuts him off before he can continue. “Why are you here, Hyunjin?”

 _Hyunjin._ Putting name to face does little to reinvent his initial impression of him. 

Hyunjin smiles, sliding his feet off of the table. He leans forward, clasping his hands together. Like they’re having a business meeting, and Changbin isn’t meeting with the man who hired an assassin to kill him.

Changbin’s head swims, overwhelmed by everything going on.

“I wanted to introduce myself. Plant some fear,” Hyunjin explains. “What a lovely palace you have here, Your Majesty.”

Changbin doesn’t respond, but Jisung is out for blood. If that is his idea of a plan, Changbin doesn’t know how today is going to end.

“Leave him alone,” Jisung says through gritted teeth. “You took your anger towards me and used it against him. It would do you well to remember that _I’m_ the one you’re angry with, not him.”

Hyunjin appears bored by his brazen foolishness. “You got him involved the second you started going soft on me. I thought we were family, Jisung.”

Jisung stands so abruptly that he knocks his chair to the ground. “You don’t know the first thing about family. You told me my job would be to take out shitty people. You know, the ones that got what was coming to them.”

He flings an arm towards Changbin. “Does he really deserve to die? He hasn’t done anything to deserve such a fate, but you wouldn’t know that. You’re just a puppet, a mouthpiece for the higher-ups. They just let you think you’re important, but you aren’t. Why don’t you go run back to them?”

Changbin swallows uneasily, but Hyunjin simply laughs, hollow and devoid of any actual joy.

“Silly boy,” He says dismissively. “I don’t care. I only said that to get you to come with me. I figured you would abandon your morals along the way, but you’ve proven to be quite a fighter.”

“Tell me: what is it about him that makes you weak?” Hyunjin presses. He turns towards Changbin. “What is it about him that makes you unwilling to give him up?”

Jisung glares at him. “Changbin is not weak.”

Hyunjin sighs. “You know better than to blatantly lie to me.”

Changbin’s shaking. He doesn’t remember it starting, but he can’t stop either. He’s way out of his league right now.

“What’s this?” Hyunjin catches on almost immediately, amused. “Are you scared of me?”

Changbin clenches his hands together, tightly enough to turn the skin pale yellow, stopping any blood from coming through. 

Jisung points a careful hand at himself, and then at Hyunjin.

“This is between you and me, not him,” Jisung reminds him. He looks perfectly calm, with perfect posture and eyebrow slightly raised. Like he’s begging Hyunjin to do something about him. 

Changbin doesn’t want to look, but he can’t tear his eyes off of him. How did they end up here? Changbin risking his life for Jisung, and Jisung risking his own for the person he was meant to kill?

Changbin doesn’t know. Neither of them do.

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “Do you know, Jisung, how easy it would be to get rid of him? A snap of my fingers, and the royal bloodline ends. No amount of bravery from you will change that.”

Jisung flashes Changbin a look, and a pit of dread sinks deep in his stomach. Hyunjin notices them looking at each other, and coos, “Isn’t that sweet?”

Nothing prepares him for the glint of silver and the knife pressed against his throat. Changbin doesn’t even register Jisung lunging forward and across the desk, or the knife magically appearing in his hands. 

“Move, and I’ll slice every tendon in your body. Starting with your legs,” Jisung vows. “You’ll never move again.”

Changbin flinches, startled, but he gathers his bearings rather quickly.

“Don’t,” Changbin stands, trying to reach out for him. To ground him. “This isn’t you. Right, Jisung? You don’t have to stoop to their level.”

Hyunjin laughs. “He has a lot of faith in you. Why don’t you tell him about the time you—” 

His voice falters when the blade digs deeper.

“You can’t kill me,” Hyunjin finally says. Changbin might be imagining it, but a trace of fear slips out, bleeding right into his voice and mixing in with the line of blood tracing his throat.

“No,” Jisung agrees, “I can’t, but I _can_ toy with your life until you agree to leave him alone.”

Hyunjin’s lips quirk up into a smile. “You would wager his life, but not your own? Not quite what I was expecting.”

“Tell me, Jisung. Do you hold so little regard for your own life?” Hyunjin asks, and Changbin flinches like someone knocked all the breath out of him. He’s heard that line before, straight from Jisung’s mouth, directed to him.

Hyunjin doesn’t notice his reaction, but Jisung’s hand shakes. Just the slightest bit, enough to create a jagged line of blood when the knife slips down Hyunjin’s neck, and it’s a dead giveaway.

“Did you really think I would send you here alone? Without any spies?” Hyunjin glances between the both of them. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get as much as I hoped since the prince here is quite fickle, always evading guards and running off.”

If not for the roots of fear paralyzing his heart, Changbin would smile. His own recklessness and small bursts of rebellion unknowingly saved them from prying ears.

Jisung looks back at him, his earlier fear replaced by a smile. “Chasing after you all this time paid off. I never thought it would.”

“Who would’ve guessed?” Changbin asks, like Jisung isn’t holding a knife to Hyunjin’s throat. Like he isn’t sure if either one of them is walking out of this alive. Panic slithers into his mind, but he pushes it back. _Not yet,_ he thinks to himself. _It’s too soon_. 

Whatever Jisung’s plan is, he hopes it works. Changbin is resting all of his faith, his churning emotions and the wild storm raging around them, in Jisung.

Hyunjin’s fingers wrap around the knife. “It’s time to stop with your silly threats. You can’t hurt me. He won’t let you, despite everything we have both done. For some reason, the prince thinks you’re misguided. That you can be better, whatever that means.”

“But what do _you_ think?” Hyunjin presses. They’re at a standstill, Jisung unmoving and Hyunjin clenching the knife. 

Jisung grits his teeth. “It doesn’t matter what I think,” but the look in his eyes tells Changbin that this isn’t something he wants to admit in front of Hyunjin. 

“Are you going to come home, then? Tail tucked between your legs and shame written all over your face?” Hyunjin’s eyes flick back to Changbin like he already knows the answer. 

Changbin tries to mask the emotions on his face, tucking them away so that Hyunjin can’t get a read on it. Satisfaction floods through him when Hyunjin turns back, disdain written all over his face.

“No,” Jisung says quietly. The knife clatters to the ground, Jisung being the first to let go of it. 

For a long, dreaded second, Hyunjin doesn’t move. All Changbin can think about is the fact that Jisung said _no,_ and nothing else.

“I’m sorry?” Amusement washes away any anger on Hyunjin’s face. “I could’ve sworn you said _no_ to me. Must’ve been a mistake. A slight of the ear, perhaps. Why don’t we try again?”

Changbin is suddenly painfully aware of the knife on the ground. Jisung makes no move to grab it, but there is nothing stopping Hyunjin from reaching for it instead. Changbin is too far away to get to it in time, separated by a mere desk that feels like an ongoing stretch miles long.

Time stills for a long, painful moment. They all stand, three points of a triangle, staring at each other, until Jisung breaks the stillness. He kicks the knife away from Hyunjin, and loses a precious second to look back at Changbin.

 _Run,_ is what Jisung’s eyes are telling him, but Changbin can’t move. He knows that if he does, Jisung will be captured, or dead as soon as he’s two steps past the doors.

Changbin stays where he is, adamant. 

“What’s the plan?” He asks instead, crossing his arms. Panic sweeps over him when he notices Hyunjin moving, but Jisung steps out of the way easily. Another knife flashes in his hands, and he appears to be bored by the fight.

Jisung’s eyes flit back towards Changbin, and he’s angry this time.

Hyunjin sighs. “I really didn’t think I’d have to fight you today, Jisung. I taught you everything you know; we are two halves of the same coin.”

Jisung flings the knife at him, but Hyunjin side steps out of the way. “C’mon. I know you have better moves than that. Don’t waste your weapons for no reason.”

They come to a standstill, both of them staring each other down. Changbin feels out of place, an intruder in his own study. All the times he’s felt trapped come rushing back to him, only exaggerating the rapid _thump thump thump_ of his heart against his chest.

“Are we really doing this?” Hyunjin asks. “One wrong move and I can easily kill you. Even without weapons.”

He holds up his hands for both of them to see, even patting down his pockets for emphasis.

“You, on the other hand,” Hyunjin eyes Jisung, “will never kill me. Not even with the weapons you have hidden on you. Darts by the cuffs of your sleeve, knives on the other. A gun strapped to your inner pant leg.”

Changbin almost laughs. _Of course_ , he thinks to himself. _Jisung would never walk around with nothing more than knives. Why did I ever fall for that?_

Jisung lands the first punch, despite Hyunjin’s warnings. Blood spills from his nose, and distaste spills out with it.

“Oh, dear,” Hyunjin sighs. “You’ve made quite the mess.”

Changbin can see the star-shaped splits lining Jisung’s knuckles, but he appears unfazed.

Hyunjin wipes his nose, staining his suit jacket and the white shirt underneath. “Now I’m going to have to buy a new suit.”

Everything after that happens almost too fast for Changbin to keep up. Hyunjin starts going after Jisung, determined to get his hands on him, but Jisung darts out of his reach every time. Every so often, Jisung glances back at Changbin, questioning.

Changbin doesn’t know what to do. He can’t leave without Jisung, and he can’t ask any of the guards to help. None of them could possibly go up against a trained assassin, and Changbin doesn’t know which one he could trust.

Instead, Changbin gestures to the wall farthest from them with a slight tilt of his head.

Jisung ducks as Hyunjin throws another punch, barreling straight into the edge of the desk. Pain flickers across his face, but only for a moment. Changbin shifts, trying to make his way towards him, but Jisung snaps, “Don’t even think about it. Go.”

“Not without you,” Changbin insists. “Together.” 

Hyunjin slams into Jisung before Changbin can warn him, and it is a terrifying sight to see Hyunjin’s fingers wrapped around Jisung’s throat. He knees him for good measure, and Changbin flinches. 

“Give up,” Hyunjin says. Blood drips to the ground, but he pays it no mind.

Changbin’s fingers clench up into fists, cutting off any blood circulation. He feels useless, standing here and watching Jisung get thrown around but he can’t bring himself to move, paralyzed in place.

“Give up,” Hyunjin repeats, but Jisung rams his shoulder into his chest instead of answering, knocking him off-balance.

Jisung spins the knife in his hands. Changbin doesn’t remember him pulling it out, but it’s there. Sharp and deadly. “Any last words?”

Hyunjin smiles, despite being hunched over. “I was saving that question for last, but it seems you beat me to it.”

Jisung shrugs, still toying with the knife. Changbin thinks about what happened earlier, how Jisung was fully prepared to hurt Hyunjin, and he crosses the space between them without any hesitation.

“Let’s go,” He pleads, “It’s useless. Killing him won’t do anything.”

Jisung knocks Hyunjin off his feet in response, already moving closer.

“Jisung,” Changbin tries again. _If I have to call him one more time, I’ll intervene and do whatever it takes._

“I’m not him,” Jisung says, but he throws his elbow forward, connecting with Hyunjin’s throat. It happens too fast—Changbin doesn’t even have time to move. All he knows is that he blinked and Jisung was already done.

Frustration claws up his throat. This entire time, Jisung was in danger, _Changbin_ was in danger, and he couldn’t move. He spent the entire time frozen in place, rooted to the floor with fear and uncertainty. 

He should’ve done more. Jisung’s voice interrupts the storm raging inside of him.

“I’ll never be him,” Jisung echoes. Hyunjin falls to the ground a split second later, and Changbin can’t tell if he’s unconscious or dead. He’s too scared to check.

Jisung glances back at him. “Pull it together. I hit a pressure point. He’ll probably wake up bruised and sore, but alive.”

He pauses. “You were right. Killing him wouldn’t have changed anything.”

He sets off to the other side of the room. Changbin hesitates, and grabs the carnation from the desk. 

“You could’ve told me about the passageway earlier,” Jisung says offhandedly, ignoring the flower in his hands. “We could’ve made a run for it. Hyunjin was stupid enough to come unarmed. He was confident that I would go back with him, I guess.”

Changbin knocks over a book on the bookshelf, and the wood groans as it shifts to the side, revealing a dark and dusty passageway.

“I don’t know where it goes,” Changbin admits. “I hated being in my study when I was younger, so I never bothered exploring.”

“This ruins my plan, but not by much,” Jisung mutters. He slips inside, and looks back at Changbin. “We only have a few minutes before he wakes up. Chances are, he caught on to your signal about the passageway. We need to get as much space between us as we can.”

Changbin steps into the darkness with him, letting it cover them. “If your plan was to kill Hyunjin, it was a terrible one.”

The bookshelf slides back into place as Jisung pushes it. “If your plan was to just watch me get beat up, it was a terrible one.”

Changbin reaches out with one hand, searching for the wall in an attempt to ground himself.

“Did he hurt you badly?” He asks quietly. “You weren’t bleeding originally, so I assumed you were okay. But you are now.”

His hand moves to the side before he can stop himself, searching for Jisung. At the last second, he pulls it back.

Jisung shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Follow me.”

Changbin knows a hint when he sees one, so he drops the subject and willingly walks after him.

The passageway slopes downwards, increasingly becoming more and more damp. If Changbin were to guess, he would say that the passageway goes beneath the palace. He isn’t sure why anyone would build one going underneath, but there _has_ to be a reason for it. 

Nothing in the palace was built for no reason. Jisung must come to the same conclusion as him, because he says, “This must be an escape route.”

“Unbelievable,” Changbin murmurs. “All these years I scaled the walls, and there was a passageway I could’ve slipped through without anyone knowing.”

He clutches the flower in his hands, determined not to lose it.

In front of him, Jisung is walking at a steady pace, but the more they walk, the faster it gets.

“Are you okay?” Changbin finally asks. “Doing the right thing is never easy.”

“Now isn’t the time to talk,” Jisung tells him, avoiding the question easily. “We need to keep moving.”

“Moving where?” Changbin presses, picking up the pace. He struggles to catch up to Jisung. “If this passageway really leads us outside of castle walls, where are we going to go from there? I can’t abandon the castle.”

Jisung doesn’t hesitate in his response. “You have to. There’s no other choice.”

“I _have_ to?” Changbin questions. “There’s always another choice. You should know that better than anyone.”

Jisung stops walking so abruptly that Changbin runs straight into him. 

He turns to face Changbin, who can barely make out his silhouette in the surrounding darkness in the passageway. “If you leave, it’ll draw them away from the castle. Away from your family. From _Felix._ ”

Jisung searches Changbin’s face, before continuing, “I know you sent him a message. You told him to leave, didn’t you?”

“Just for a while,” Changbin stammers. “I didn’t want anything to happen to him in case. I couldn’t say anything to my parents, or they would’ve caught on. God, my parents. You want me to leave them behind?”

A wave of panic washes over him, bringing nausea with it. All those times Changbin ran away, and he can’t bring himself to do it now.

Jisung isn’t giving him an option. He grabs Changbin’s face with both of his hands, and forces him to look Jisung in the eyes.

“Listen to me,” He says, a bit forcefully. “Either you go back and everyone you love dies until they finally get to you, or you leave and Hyunjin gives them up in favor of searching for us.”

Jisung glances over Changbin’s shoulder worriedly. “Maybe they haven’t figured it out yet. Either way, we’re wasting time.”

Changbin stands in front of him, dazed. He’s at a crossroads.

“ _Changbin_.” The sound of Jisung calling him by name is all it takes for him to snap out of it.

“Okay,” He agrees, but his voice is hollow. He can’t think about it, otherwise he’ll just run back to the palace. It’s what he’s been doing for most of his life. 

Running is in his nature, and yet, he hates the mere idea of it now.

Jisung lets go of him without another word, breaking into a run. His feet hit the ground quietly, not making a single sound. He doesn’t look to see if Changbin is following him, because he knows without a doubt that the sound of his footsteps will match his own silent ones, until they reach the end of the passageway and enter the edge of Changbin’s comfort zone.

Changbin will always follow Jisung. To the ends of the Earth, through all the passageways and through the murkiness of his life, because he knows it’s the right thing to do.

He’s running again, but it’s different this time. He’s running with Jisung, not away from him. 

The sound of his footsteps is jarring. Each slap of his shoes against concrete grates against his ears, but he pushes past it, forcing himself to keep going. If he stops, he’ll start spinning like a point on a compass, lost and confused.

The sight of Jisung in front of him is what keeps him going, what keeps the needle in his heart from spinning wildly and out of direction. 

He remembers Jisung asking him why he hadn’t gotten rid of him, of his _keep your friends close and your enemies closer_ excuse and when he finally admitted that he was taking a leap of faith in trusting him.

Changbin clutches the flower in his hand. The first one Seungmin gave him is pressed against his chest, as heavy as ever. He doesn’t know why he’s keeping all of them, but Seungmin’s words echo in his brain.

_“Keep this,” Seungmin insists. “Let it be a reminder that you chose this path willingly.”_

So Changbin clutches the blood red carnation in his hands, a reminder of his choices and what is to come. Jisung doesn’t mention his keepsake. Maybe he already understands that Changbin needs something concrete and tangible to set his decision into stone.

He doesn’t know how long they run for, but it’s long enough for his chest to start aching and his legs to start burning. Every step slows him down, but he refuses to stop going. Not until Jisung stops, at least.

Eventually, Jisung starts slowing down. “We’re near the end.”

Changbin tries not to let his exhaustion show. “How do you know?”

There’s no door in sight, which makes him worry that they’ve reached a dead end.

Jisung glances over his shoulder and Changbin catches the brief flicker of amusement.

“It’s starting to slope upwards,” Jisung tells him, pointing down to the ground. Changbin follows his hand. “See?”

Changbin tries to stifle his disdain at the idea of running uphill, but Jisung slows to a walk.

“Save your energy,” He says. “You’ll need it for what’s bound to follow.”

Changbin nods, even though he wants nothing more than to run back to the palace. _Has anyone realized yet? That we’re missing? That I’m missing?_

They fall into step next to each other, Changbin leaning towards Jisung without even realizing.

“You pushed yourself too hard,” Jisung notes, but it is not scathing or scolding. “I should’ve ran slower.”

Changbin sighs heavily, trying to fight off his exhaustion. “I’ll survive. They would’ve caught up to us by now if we didn’t run this fast.”

Jisung wordlessly lets Changbin lean on him, and that is how they spend the remainder of their time in the tunnel: pillars of support for each other, until the passageway ends.

“There’s no door,” Changbin says. A laugh bubbles up out of him, but he pushes it down. _All that work for nothing?_

“No door,” Jisung agrees, but he lifts an arm to point at something up in the ceiling. “But there’s a latch up there. I’m sure of it.”

Changbin looks up, squinting in an attempt to spot it, but he sees nothing. Jisung is already moving, clasping his fingers together into a foothold for Changbin. He bends his knees, and looks at him pointedly.

“Royals first,” He comments dryly. 

Changbin stares at him. “You can’t carry me long enough with your injuries. Maybe you should go first.”

“I have no choice,” Jisung shoots back. “They could arrive any second now. If we beat them to it, we can move something heavy on top of the entranceway. Like a boulder. It’ll slow them down.”

Changbin realizes there’s no point in arguing, so he shoves the flower into the pocket of his pants. Then, he braces a hand on Jisung’s shoulder, lifting a foot up onto his hand experimentally. 

“It better be up there,” Changbin says, before he glances up at the ceiling.

Jisung strains underneath him, but doesn’t complain as Changbin’s hand connects with the ceiling, searching. As he suspected, the walls and ceiling are dirt, untouched by the concrete paved into the ground.

He flounders around a bit, searching for any sign of an exit. Jisung wordlessly shifts from side to side, until Changbin’s hand lands against something that doesn’t feel quite like packed dirt.

“You were right,” He murmurs, already clawing for a lock or latch that’ll allow him to open it. He doesn’t want to make this any harder for Jisung than it has to be.

“Try to get it open,” Jisung calls back, but he keeps his voice down. Changbin isn’t looking at him, but he gets the feeling that Jisung is looking over his shoulder every few seconds, waiting for the mess they created to catch up to them.

Changbin pushes against the heavy surface of the exit, straining to get it open. Just as he’s about to tell Jisung that he should try, the material gives, and his hand shoots through it, revealing the first signs of light from outside ever since they left the palace.

Pain flares up his arm, and Changbin realizes that the exit is made of wood, making the passageway even older than he originally thought.

Changbin pushes himself upwards, searching for a latch. He doesn’t want to destroy the rest of it, so he flounders around until he finds one. It takes another few seconds of fumbling for him to slide it open and push open the exit, but he manages to do it.

More light pours through, and Jisung is immediately hoisting Changbin up, telling him, “Grab onto the first thing you see. Hurry.”

Changbin grabs onto a rotting log not too far from the exit, and _pulls_. Jisung gives him an extra boost, and he tumbles up into the open air. He squints at the sudden change from complete darkness to bright sunlight, ducking his head towards the ground.

He doesn’t get a lot of time to adjust before Jisung is stretching out a hand towards him.

“Help me up now,” He requests, still glancing behind his shoulder. Changbin thinks it might be a habit left over from his past, but he doesn’t dare ask right now.

It takes some effort, Changbin almost falling back in, and Jisung bruising his stomach for the both of them to get out safely.

Jisung doesn't waste a single second, dusting off his already ruined outfit and searching for something heavy.

“I’m gonna need your help,” Jisung says, his voice hushed.

Changbin, too, is on high alert, listening for any sounds that someone is approaching. He glances down at the ground with annoyance, knowing the leaves are going to set off too much noise.

Jisung dismissed his concerns immediately.

“It’s okay,” He says, “I don’t hear anyone nearby or see any evidence that people walked through here recently.”

Changbin makes a point of using large strides to get to Jisung’s side, not wanting to create any more noise than necessary. 

“You think you can lift this?” Jisung asks, lifting his chin towards a fairly large rock.

Changbin doesn’t hesitate. “Let’s do it before it’s too late.”

Jisung nods, wrapping both of his arms on the underside of the rock. Changbin follows suit, ignoring the way his body protests under the weight. They stumble over towards the entrance to the passageway, dropping it with a loud _thud_. 

He can hear wood splintering below it, but it doesn’t matter. 

“We should cover our tracks now,” Jisung says. “Make it look like we were never here.”

Changbin chooses that moment to take in his surroundings, realizing that the terrain around them is oddly familiar. Long, tall grass and wide trees with sloping branches make him feel at ease, if only for a split second.

“I think we’re by the meadow,” He realizes, turning in a slow circle. “The path should be nearby.”

Jisung’s face is pained when he says, “We can’t go back there. It’s too risky.”

“I know.” Changbin forces himself to stop thinking about it. “How do we cover up our tracks?”

“Don’t move. I’ll try to do the best I can,” Jisung tells him. “It’s annoying that we ended up in tall grass. It’s easy to make a recognizable path.”

He pauses to look up at Changbin. “When we leave, we should stay a few feet apart, but side-by-side until it switches to better terrain. Like dirt. Not the soft, loose kind, though.”

Changbin stays where he is, watching Jisung mindlessly move clumps of grass and scatter leaves. 

“I’m going to make it look like we went in another direction,” Jisung says quietly. “Hyunjin will know better than that, but his lackeys won’t. He’ll send them after us first, and when they prove incompetent, he’ll follow.”

Jisung snaps tree branches in half, trampling plants and weeds as he goes deeper and deeper into the forest, until Changbin loses sight of him. It takes all of his self-resolve not to go after him.

Eventually, Jisung reappears. There’s a smudge of dirt streaked across his face and small twigs stuck in his clothes, but he’s unharmed.

Changbin relaxes.

“That should throw them off,” Jisung says, but it’s more to reassure himself than Changbin. “If they ever find the entrance above ground.”

He smiles wryly at Changbin. “Hopefully they don’t catch on quickly.”

Changbin nods. “Yeah. We seem to be relying on hope a lot, don’t you think?”

“What else can keep us going?” Jisung asks, setting off towards the forest. He motions for Changbin to follow by his side, keeping a safe distance between them. “Avoid stepping on plants and weeds. Don’t break any branches or step in soft soil. No mud, either.”

“If worst comes to worst, we abandon our shoes.” Jisung glances over to the side, meeting his eyes. “They can track the treads they leave behind, but if we’re lucky, the grass will switch over to dirt soon enough.”

Changbin tries to absorb all the information Jisung is providing him with, suddenly realizing how he managed to find Changbin all those times. It’s not like he ever bothered to cover his tracks.

He carefully steps around a branch lying on the ground, feeling a split second of gratification before it’s replaced by that hollow, empty ache from earlier.. Jisung doesn’t notice, too busy scanning their environment.

“Where are we going?” Changbin asks. He keeps his voice hushed, not wanting to bring attention to themselves.

Jisung doesn’t look at him. “To a friend’s house. I haven’t seen him since I got caught up in all of this. Let’s find out if he’s willing to take us in.”

Changbin stumbles over the root of a tree, and realizes they’ve left the grass behind. The ground beneath him feels solid, and when he glances over his shoulder, he sees no sign of their footprints.

Jisung falters long enough to check if he’s okay, and then continues moving.

“Won’t that put him in danger?” Changbin questions. “If Hyun—”

“ _Shh_.” Jisung cuts him off with a sharp glare. “You never know who could be listening. I thought you of all people would know better than to talk so carelessly.”

Changbin’s cheeks burn from the reprimand, but he knows Jisung is right.

“I’ll try to be more careful,” He whispers, and they fall into silence, with Jisung leading the way.

Since they’re deeper in the forest and farther away from open fields, Changbin walks behind Jisung, who says it can make it confusing for others to tell how many people walked through here.

“How do you know where you’re going?” Changbin finally asks, letting curiosity get the best of him. He’s sweating a little too much for his liking, not used to the longer trek in his suit. 

Jisung walks with his suit jacket hanging over his shoulder, which makes Changbin feel somewhat better about himself.

“I memorized a map of the surrounding area before I started working for you,” Jisung admits. “It was precautionary, but it came in handy.”

Changbin nods, trying not to think about how his intentions back then were completely different than they are now. Jisung doesn’t bring it up either.

“I’m surprised you don’t have the area memorized,” Jisung comments. “You’re always out here, running away.”

He comes to a stop in front of a particularly long branch to warn, “Make sure you duck, or they’ll know we went this way.”

Changbin ducks after him, dropping as low as possible to avoid giving their trail away. Jisung stares at him, seemingly amused by the slight tilt of his lips.

Changbin looks away. He’s not used to seeing Jisung smile.

“I know some of it,” Changbin tells him. “Nothing too far away from where I grew up though. I never ventured that far.”

Jisung sets off through the dense foliage, his pace a little bit faster. “C’mon. You don’t have to hide your tracks this way.”

Changbin has no choice but to follow.

—

Later, he realizes why they left a trail. They looped away from the palace, leaving behind all the crushed leaves and branches one could hope for. Jisung even left his bloody jacket against a tree stump to make it look like he was too injured to continue.

After that, they trekked back _towards_ the palace without leaving a single trace. 

“He lives nearby,” Jisung explains. “That’s why I chose him. Chances are, they don’t think we’re stupid enough to come back and they’ll be duped by the fake trails.”

Changbin pushes away the anxiety balling up in his chest, seeking comfort there. _It’s okay,_ he tells himself. _Jisung knows what he’s doing._

Jisung looks back at him. They’re standing on the edge of a clearing, hiding in the dense shrubbery that carefully conceals them. On the other side of the clearing is a house, but Changbin can’t see it.

“That’s purposeful,” Jisung tells him. “It’s well concealed, with plants and vines growing all over it to cover the outer walls.”

He pauses. “I know you’re tired, but I would feel much better if we went around rather than cutting through the clearing.”

Changbin’s entire body protests at the thought of having to watch his every move for any second longer, but he stays quiet.

“I can carry you,” Jisung offers quietly.

Changbin shakes his head, standing up from his crouched position. Bruises are already forming on the edge of Jisung’s jaw, and around the curves of his throat. No, Changbin won’t let him.

“No need for that. Let’s go,” He says curtly, not wanting to discuss it any further.

—

Jisung knocks, even though he looks ready to collapse. Changbin doesn’t feel too steady either, but he manages to hold it together long enough. He can’t even make out the door in the growing darkness, each minute taking away more and more light as the sun sets, washing the sky in a soft, purple sky.

An eternity passes before someone comes to the door. Changbin hears them first, the soft _thump_ of footsteps and quiet muttering. It fills him with unease, but Jisung is as relaxed as ever, standing in the doorway like they hadn’t spent the entire day running for their lives.

There must be a bolt, because Changbin spends the next 15 seconds listening to various _clicks._ Jisung’s eyelids flutter shut for a moment, and Changbin finds himself worried that he’ll pass out without a chance to explain anything.

The door swings open, golden light spilling from the inside of the house, but Changbin doesn’t see anyone. 

“It’s me,” Jisung says tiredly. “Calm down.”

A face peers out from behind the door, followed by a knife.

“Your friend carries knives for a living too?” Changbin blurts out. “You could’ve stood to mention that. We’re lucky we aren’t dead right now.”

Jisung shoots him a threatening glance, but the person behind the door laughs, stepping out to get a good look at them.

“Not once did I think I would live to see you on my doorstep,” He says, “Especially not looking like you’ve been to hell and back. I always assumed I would…”

He hesitates, remembering Changbin’s presence. He lets the rest of his sentence stay stuck in his throat, leaving Changbin oddly curious. 

Jisung sighs. His lack of response tells Changbin that he’s too tired, and he suddenly remembers the beating he took earlier. They didn’t stop to rest, not even for one second, and Jisung was injured all the meanwhile. 

He thinks about the bloody jacket, how Jisung had refused to stop and let Changbin examine him. How he had his heart set on getting here, to safety.

Changbin finds himself itching to get inside, wanting Jisung to rest more than anything. He almost forgets his own exhaustion, too caught up in Jisung’s own.

“Who’s your company?” Jisung’s so-called friend asks, pointing the tip of the knife at Changbin. His shirt sleeve rides up his arm as he does so, and Changbin catches a glimpse of a tattoo. He must be around Jisung’s age, considering he doesn’t appear to be much older, with dark hair and the sort of look on his face that tells Changbin he can trust him.

Changbin gestures to the house, taking a cautionary step forward. “May we please come in? Jisung’s injured, and he keeps insisting he’s fine even though he most definitely is not _._ I can feel him boring holes into the back of my head for admitting this to you as we speak.”

“Name, please,” The stranger says instead of answering his question, crossing his arms defiantly. The friendly glint in his eyes is gone, replaced by something colder. Harder. “Your real one.”

Changbin swallows uneasily, looking back at Jisung for the first time in ages. It takes him a second, but Jisung nods in approval.

He turns back to the stranger, desperate but wary all the meanwhile. “Names are a powerful thing, but I’ll give you mine in hopes that the benefits outweigh the risks.”

Jisung’s friend raises an eyebrow, waiting expectantly. Next to Changbin, Jisung sways on his feet, unsteady, and he knows that he needs to hurry. He doesn’t even know the extent of Jisung’s injuries. 

“Changbin,” He forces out. “My name is Seo Changbin, as in the crown prince of this country. We need your help.”

“Oh? I feel like this is the start of some joke.” The stranger smiles, but Changbin cannot tell if it’s genuine or threatening. “An assassin and crown prince showing up on the doorstep of a former assassin turned target, seeking help.”

He opens the door even further, lowering the knife in his hand. The look from earlier is gone, replaced by a burning curiosity. “Well, what are you waiting for? Come on in. I’ll have to tell you how the joke ends eventually, right?” 


	3. a taste of the unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chan was right yesterday; this isn’t his life. Jisung and Chan belong to this world. Changbin’s still stuck in the palace, in velvet suits and marble staircases that stretch for ages and the smell of dessert coming from the palace kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um. sorry for taking ages to update...i had a lot of difficulty writing this part bc what i planned for the ending is not at all what stayo3 likes. my idea won out in the end tho so sorry to disappoint the three people who read this (thank u so much btw—ur comments made me so happy and i do indeed cherish them)

The stranger’s face softens when he notices Changbin twirling the blood red carnation between his fingertips, the very one Hyunjin gave to him. The first one—long dried out and falling apart—is burning a hole in his pocket.

“They symbolize love and adoration,” He tells Changbin, much more gentle than his earlier impression. He bustles around the kitchen—all kinds of wooden and rustic—in search of something, and it’s a painful reminder of Felix. “Whoever gave it to you must care for you.”

Changbin shoves the flower back in his pocket with the other one at his words, refusing to look at it any longer. He’s relieved that Jisung’s _friend_ , whoever he may be, finally let them in.

“They’re used at funerals, too,” Changbin says flatly. He’d remembered somewhere in the space of time between leaving the passageway and entering the forest. “For the dead. Two sides of the same coin, really.”

It’s a message. Changbin knows.

Jisung’s gaze flickers over to Changbin, but there’s no signs of recognition on his face. Changbin’s still thinking about Hyunjin’s earlier words, that he and Jisung are the same, just different sides of a coin.

“I don’t understand why you brought it with you,” Jisung finally says, acknowledging the heavy weight in his pocket for the first time.

Changbin never gave him a reason to understand. He never told him about Seungmin’s warning, that he gave him the flower as a reminder. Even then, there was a hidden message. No note or words to uncover, but an underlying threat slipped between the petals of the flower instead.

As if one flower wasn’t enough, he sent another through Hyunjin. He doesn’t think Jisung needs to know that, though. It doesn’t feel important right now.

Changbin leans back against the rough wood of his chair, closing his eyes. He had everything yesterday. Today? He doesn’t know.

The stranger is back, reappearing in Changbin’s line of vision long enough to slide an armful of medical supplies across the table to Jisung. Gauze, tape, disinfectant. All of it in neatly lined up in a clear container. Not too many things are missing, so Changbin’s willing to bet that it isn’t used frequently.

“I recommend taking care of that,” He gestures to Jisung’s face vaguely, “before you pass out.”

Changbin opens his mouth, the tip of a sentence ready to spill out, but Jisung cuts him off with a curt, “Don’t.”

He grabs a handful of supplies, leaving everything else behind as he stands, going off in search of the bathroom.

His friend sighs. “He really hasn’t changed since the last time I saw him.”

As if remembering Changbin is still there, he turns to him. “You were right earlier. Names _are_ powerful, but I’ll give you mine as a token of my gratitude.”

Trust. That is what is being given to him, handed on a careful platter and ready to be pulled away at a moment's notice. He wants to tuck it into his pocket safely, hidden and away from prying eyes, but he hasn’t been offered that just yet.

Changbin decides to wait, until he finally says, “My name is Chan. It’s nice to meet you.”

 _Chan._ Jisung’s never mentioned him, but Changbin can’t focus on that right now. _Has Jisung ever told him anything concrete? Tangible?_ Changbin doesn’t know much about him, let alone Chan.

He knows nothing. Trust is touch and go, a waxing moon that lights the way on days he needs the most. Changbin isn’t sure what he was expecting.

 _Former assassin turned target._ He still cannot make out Chan’s tattoo, no matter how hard he strains. 

Chan slips through the kitchen, not waiting for a response, until he’s back in front of Changbin, pushing a mug towards him.

“Drink,” Chan tells himself. “It’s tea, straight from the garden.”

Changbin forces himself to wrap his fingers around the mug, but he doesn’t lift it off of the table. He’s lingering on Chan’s last word— _garden_ —and how lovely his little home sounds. Hidden in broad daylight, where no one will ever think to look for him. Wide, arching ceilings and scattered pots of plants, dog-eared books and fancy windows covered by vines. Changbin aches for it.

Envy is infectious, creeping through his body.

Changbin glances around the room, belatedly realizing that the inside of the house doesn’t match with what he expected it to look like. It’s cozy, but without a sense of personal touch. No photos hanging on the walls or signs of cherished memories.

It’s comforting, to a degree, but more practical than anything. Bare walls, a countertop devoid of dishes. The only signs of devotion are in the form of the potted plants. They’re scattered through the room, far apart to make it appear barren, but enough in number for Changbin to realize that it must be a hobby.

“How did you know?” Chan asks, gesturing at something that isn’t there. “What red carnations symbolize.”

Changbin watches tendrils of steam rise up and out of the cup, desperate to make it to the sky. They dissipate within seconds. The flowers press into skin despite the layers of cloth separating them from it, a reminder he cannot forget.

“Educated guess,” Changbin responds, not knowing how much to reveal. “Flowers never really mean one thing. There’s always more to it.”

Chan’s response is cut off by the sound of footsteps coming from down the hall. Jisung follows soon enough, looking more or less the same. Changbin flinches at the scraping sound of a chair moving across tile, but neither one of them say anything.

“We need a place to stay,” Jisung says, folding his hands together on the rickety excuse of a table they’re sitting around. Bandages cover his split knuckles, bright white against the tan of his skin.

Changbin sips his scalding tea, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to ease the pain of being burnt.

“It won’t come without a price,” Chan admits. He stands, busying himself by the counter again.

He comes back with another mug, placing it in front of Jisung.

Changbin nudges his shoulder. “Drink. It’s good.”

Jisung ignores him, fixing his gaze on Chan. “If I tell you everything, it’ll put you in danger.”

Chan traces a knot in the wood with a careful finger, not looking at either of them. 

“It was only a matter of time before they found me,” Chan shrugs lightly. “I’ll start over somewhere else. It’s what my life is meant to be.”

 _Is this what my life is meant to be? Running from place to place, never staying long enough to form roots and connections?_ Changbin doesn’t know.

“You’re sure about this?” Jisung presses.

Changbin’s gaze switches back and forth between the two of them like a pendulum, intrigued by their relationship. Neither of them offered to explain the basis of it, and he’s too scared to ask.

He settles for watching instead, noticing the curve of Chan’s shoulders and the ease with which he holds himself around Jisung. Jisung, who sits stiff and unmoving, refusing to touch the cup of tea in front of him.

Changbin almost asks, but he catches himself at the last second.

Chan stops tracing patterns into the wood. “You know I’ve always been an adrenaline junkie. It’s been awhile since my life had a little excitement in it.”

He smiles, nothing like the crooked ones Changbin’s gotten from Jisung, but a smile nonetheless.

“In exchange for my hospitality, all I ask for is a story,” Chan continues. “Hiding out and being on the run is quite dreadful. It gets bleak after the first couple of months. The days start bleeding together and whatnot.”

He leans forward. “In the meantime, I’ll let you both rest. I can keep watch tonight, as a precaution. In this line of work, you can never be too careful.”

—

Jisung sleeps on the ground. Or, rather, stares into oblivion until sleep takes him into its arms, as broody and mysterious as usual.

“You didn’t have to be stubborn,” Changbin tells him, staring up at the ceiling. Jisung refused to even consider sleeping on the bed.

Changbin feels like he’s intruding, a weed weaseling its way into Chan’s life and secretive past, into his bedroom walls and privacy.

“I’m watching the door,” Jisung murmurs, facing away from Changbin, “In case anyone gets through. You can’t defend yourself.”

His words sting more than they should, and Changbin can feel the dam of emotions over his head threatening to give way to the storm brewing. 

“Not everyone’s a trained assassin,” Changbin says curtly, and he turns to face away from Jisung. They can’t see each other, but he doesn’t want to look at Jisung right now.

Neither of them speak for the rest of the night. 

—

Changbin finds Chan outside the next morning, near a batch of flowers in the gardens behind the house.

“Where’s Jisung?” Changbin gestures back towards the door he came from. “He was gone when I woke up.”

Chan waves a pair of garden shears instead of offering an actual response, unbothered and much more happier than last night. “Come help me out while you’re here.”

Changbin hesitates, looking back at the door once more. He wishes Jisung didn’t slip out, that he was trained to hear that sort of thing the way Jisung was.

Instead, he feels useless. Drifting in a sea of unknowns and his compass needle spinning without a set direction.

“Jisung’s doing recon, if you must know,” Chan reveals. “Now come over here. I can tell you’re itching to get your hands dirty.”

Changbin peels off his suit jacket—he needs clothes, but he doesn’t want to inconvenience Chan any further—and sets off towards him, kneeling in the dirt besides him. Chan gestures to the plants, pointing out where to cut and how to do it in a calm, serene voice.

He works in silence, setting the pieces of leaves and stems into a pile off to the side. He tries not to look at Chan, but curiosity gets the best of him. The tattoo ink curling up Chan’s forearm forms a wolf, but Changbin doesn’t have the nerve to ask about it.

All around him, the garden is filled with the quiet _buzz_ of bees and other wildlife, bringing the garden alive. The quiet _snip_ of the shears almost drowns it out.

“Who is Jisung to you?” Chan finally asks. “I’ve never seen him so…wound up. Doing recon and staying up all night for a crown prince.”

Changbin bristles at the question, mostly because he doesn’t have an answer. He doesn’t know _what_ they are. Past the enemies phase, but lurking in the grey area before friends. They’re in no man’s land, tied between two sides.

“A bodyguard,” Changbin answers. “He was sent to kill me.”

Chan slices too long, startled, and catches the open end of his palm with the sharp end of the blade. The shears slip out of his other hand, and he winces at the sight of blood.

“Sorry,” Changbin murmurs, suddenly feeling apologetic. He hadn’t meant to startle him. “Probably should’ve built my way up to that revelation.”

Chan shakes his head, wiping off the cut on his pants. “It wasn’t exactly the answer I was expecting. I sort of figured you hired him and the job ended up going sideways, so you had to make a break for it.”

Changbin laughs. It all sounds so simple and parallel to Seungmin, but he doesn’t say that.

He cuts off another part of a plant—they’re pruning to prevent overgrowth—and says, “Not quite. The job _did_ go sideways, considering I’m alive and we’re on the run.”

His pile is particularly large. Changbin worries he’s doing it wrong, but a quick glance at Chan reassures him.

“You can stop.” Chan sets down his shears. “I have to start planting seeds, if you want to help with that as well. Jisung’s nothing if not thorough, so he won’t be back anytime soon.”

Changbin hesitates, but puts down his shears and grabs an armful of plant remains. “Where do you want this?”

Chan holds out his arms, and says, “I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you go grab the seeds from the kitchen drawer? All the way to the left, top one. Go on, don’t be shy to look around.” He winks at him, slowly and effortlessly. “It’s not like I have anything to hide.”

—

Changbin’s hands ache. He took the palace gardener for granted; he knows that now.

(He took a lot of things for granted, but it’s too late).

Jisung still isn’t back, and they’re about to plant their first row of seeds. Dirt lines the crevices of Changbin’s palms, another reminder of how much everything has changed, but he ignores it.

Chan holds up a particularly tiny bulb. “You put the butt of it in first, so that the onion can grow properly. You see this?”

He gestures to one side, and Changbin tries his best to discern what he means. “This goes in the dirt first. Not the more narrow side, okay? And you have to push it in, making sure they’re all a safe distance from one another.”

Chan holds out the bulb to Changbin and says, “Give it a try. I’ll start from the last row and come back to check over yours.”

He stands, taking a handful of the bulbs with him as he goes to the other side of the garden, pressing them into the dirt with steady, careful hands.

Changbin tries his best to mimic him, but he spends most of the time thinking, his thoughts a world away from dirt and fertilizer and the proper way to place seeds as he absentmindedly plants the bulbs into the soil.

He finds himself looking over his shoulder more times than necessary, listening for shouts that don’t come and footsteps he doesn’t hear. Chan picks up on it eventually, and Changbin doesn’t realize he’s crouching next to him until a hand reaches out. Hovering over his own, hesitant.

“Relax.” Chan doesn’t touch him, and Changbin doesn’t ask him to. “No one’s coming. This place doesn’t exist. Not on paper, not on maps or in peoples’ minds. I’m a ghost.”

He pauses. “You’re a ghost, too.”

Changbin shrugs him off, even though they weren’t touching to begin with.

“I’m not a ghost,” He says. “Jisung isn’t either. We still exist, despite what you may think.”

The rest of the bulbs slip out of his hands, into the dirt, as he lets go. He leaves them there.

—

Changbin stops Jisung in the doorframe, blocking his way inside.

“I’m scared,” He admits quietly as a way of saying _hello_ , thinking about all he’s left behind. “Are we going to die?”

He clutches the flower in his pocket, already wilting and dying in the mere hours after Hyunjin gave it to him.

Jisung gives him a once-over, his expression unreadable. “I can’t say for sure. Can you move?”

Changbin holds up a hand to Jisung’s chest, frustrated. He pushes slightly, to stop him from moving forward.

“Are you still lying to me?” Changbin demands. “After I decided to trust you with my life? I’ve given up everything—I ran away with an _assassin_ —and you can’t bother to tell me the truth?”

He can hear Chan walking through the house, surely to see what’s going on, but he doesn’t care. Jisung owes him a story anyways. Changbin’s going to give him one.

“You can’t give me this?” Changbin presses. “I don’t ask for much. I followed you here without question or a single complaint. Isn’t this the least you can do? Give me our odds of survival?”

Jisung looks down at the hand splayed across his chest with an air of indifference, and simply says, “Move away from me, or I’ll break your arm in exactly three different places.”

It’s easy to figure out his next move. Changbin lets go. The scene is over, dissolving into tidbits before Chan even reaches them. He steps to the side quietly, letting Jisung pass through. 

—

Jisung sits by the window in their shared room that night.

“I can’t let Chan take watch every night,” He tells Changbin, but he’s facing away from him.

‘Fear bubbles up in his chest, mixing with the puddle of worry that has been gnawing at him ever since he left the castle. Changbin pushes it away.

“It’s okay to shoulder a burden,” Changbin says in return, their earlier conversation already forgotten.

He gets up from his spot on the bed, feet padding against the floor as he makes his way over to Jisung. He sits by the wall adjacent to the one by the window, knees tucked to his chest.

Jisung raises an eyebrow at him. “You don’t know what to look for.”

Changbin refuses to back down, even though he can’t exactly see out of the window right now. Jisung’s using the only chair in the room, and he can’t fit on the windowsill.

“I’m not letting you do everything all alone,” Changbin responds. “You’ll break, sooner or later.”

Jisung glances back to the outside world, slivers of moonlight reaching his face. “You don’t know what it takes to break me.”

“I don’t know much about you to begin with,” Changbin counters. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

He knows they should talk, _really_ talk, about everything that’s happened so far, but Changbin can’t think about it yet. 

He’ll fall apart if he does, so he lets the string tying his bones together stay for just a little bit longer if it means that Jisung begrudgingly allows him to stay.

“You told me to trust you,” Changbin says, keeping his voice hushed. He doesn’t want to wake Chan, if he’s fallen asleep already.

Jisung’s gaze is faraway, unreachable, but he comes back to him, back to Changbin, long enough to admit, “I did. Can’t that keep the curiosity away for a little bit longer? I’m not ready.”

Changbin stares at him, trying to discern whether or not he is serious. He knows it can’t be easy, defecting from the person who took him in and siding with a target he was meant to kill ages ago, but Changbin is floundering, losing his balance and grip on reality.

How much longer can he keep himself afloat? Maybe it’s a good thing that he chooses to stay quiet, because Jisung stirs, coming to life the way a flower might, petals unfurling to reveal what’s hidden underneath.

“I didn’t think he would ask me to come back,” He says quietly. “There was a part of me that wanted to do it. A small, twisted part of me that doesn’t care or even bother to care. You told me that home isn’t a place, that it’s a person.”

“Hyunjin was that for me.” Jisung keeps his eyes fixated on the window, looking for signs of an attack that hasn’t come. “That life is all I’ve known.”

Changbin’s mind rushes back to the palace, to the marble floors and sweeping staircases, to the late nights with Felix and trips to the market, and he understands. For the briefest of moments, Changbin understands why Jisung hesitated.

Everyone wants a place to belong, and Changbin cannot fault Jisung for it. That would be cruel.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Changbin tells him, and he believes it. 

Roots are difficult to pull up out of the ground. Connections are tangible, sewn into existence by memories and promises, no matter how faulty or twisted they may be. Jisung’s roots are impossible to untangle.

“You live so freely,” Jisung murmurs. “So unlike what I’m used to. I think that’s what won me over in the end.”

Changbin nods like he understands, trying to ignore the lump stuck in his throat. Heavy and unmoving.

“You did the right thing,” Changbin says, resting his chin on top of his folded arms. “I’m glad.”

Jisung finally glances over at him. “I don’t need your approval.”

“I know,” Changbin responds, maybe a little too quickly because they fall into a calming silence. He feels less on edge now, the blade of worry in his chest dulled to a buzzing anxiety that comes and goes.

Jisung turns back to the window. It’s meager, nothing more than a small piece of the puzzle that completes Jisung, but Changbin cradles it in his hands like it’s the most precious item in the world. (Somewhere along the line of almost dying and the stifling reminder of being a prince, Jisung started to become important. Meaningful. A puzzle piece in his life).

—

“He’s after the both of you?” Chan sniffs the mug of coffee in his hands, and makes a face. “I don’t know why you drink this.”

He sets it down by Jisung, already flitting through the kitchen to make himself tea.

“I don’t think he cared that much about Changbin in the beginning,” Jisung admits. “He was supposed to be the turning point for me, and I ended up disobeying orders. Hyunjin’s pissed off that I couldn’t do it, and he hates Changbin because he’s a reminder of my betrayal to him.”

Jisung pauses, his eyes flickering towards Changbin and then back to the table. “He thinks I did it because of him.”

Chan sighs, leaning with his back against the countertop and tea in his hands. “So Hyunjin still has a temper, I see.”

Changbin does a double take. He knows Chan isn’t an assassin anymore, but he didn’t assume that he and Jisung worked for the same person.

“Jisung said no to him,” Changbin speaks up. “He didn’t want to go back to that life.”

“Oh?” Chan sets down the mug, folding his arms across his chest. Changbin can see the wolf tattoo clearly. “How come?”

Changbin traces the lines in the wood of the table, no longer looking at Chan. He knows he shouldn’t speak for Jisung, but the words slip out easily.

“He’s better than that.” It’s like dropping a bomb in the center of Chan’s kitchen. Jisung’s chair _screeches_ against the floor, tilting dangerously when he stands. His mug rattles on the table, and a rivulet of coffee slides down the side of it.

Chan startles, and Changbin gets the nagging suspicion that their temporary truce is over.

“Don’t say that,” Jisung snaps. “You’re wrong.”

Changbin breaks, too, tired of walking on eggshells around him. “Why is it so hard for you to believe me when I take your side?”

“You’re wrong. You’re _wrong._ I’m not the person you think I am. I was ready to kill him that day, and you want to sit here and tell him I’m _better_ than this life?” Jisung stands in front of Changbin, breathing heavily. “You think everything is black and white. It’s not.”

Chan glances between the both of them, and shakes his head. 

“Come on. Sit back down.” He gestures towards the chairs. “Jisung, I understand your anger, but don’t you think it’s misplaced? And, Changbin, maybe you should let him talk for himself. Please.”

Changbin shuts his mouth immediately, cheeks burning. _This shouldn’t be so hard._ Eventually, Jisung sits back down, but he folds his arms and stares at the wall in silence.

The silence is stifling, so he asks, “How come you didn’t know he worked for Seungmin?”

Chan frowns. “He never told you?”

Jisung shakes his head, breaking his stillness. “I didn’t think it was important, but when he said Seungmin came from a long line of assassins, it made sense. Hyunjin’s nothing more than a mouthpiece, meant to relay orders.”

A thought dawns on Changbin. “Is that why his parents were so unhappy when I showed up at the palace? They probably thought I’d be dead by then.”

Jisung looks at him begrudgingly, the frostiness on his face melting.

“Most likely,” He says slowly. “They signed a treaty with your kingdom, right? I’m guessing it was to cover their tails when you ended up dead, but that never happened.”

Chan laughs. “When did this all become so complicated? In my day, you hired someone to get the job done and wired cash after being given proof of death.”

“We became harder to kill,” Changbin responds quietly. It wipes the smile off of Chan’s face immediately.

He stands again, not caring about how loudly the chair scrapes the floor or Chan starting to say something. “Excuse me.”

—

It’s not the meadow. Chan’s endless backyard will never be the same as the place that gave him handfuls of comfort and happiness whenever he needed it, but it’ll have to do for now.

He lays flat on the ground, staring up at the sky. The stars flicker and shimmer like city lights and Changbin finds himself aching for the lights of the palace, the ones he ran away from so many times.

He’s lost track of how long it’s been since they left. The North Star is particularly bright tonight, and Changbin traces all of the stars back to it to keep himself occupied. It’s dizzying, to see the sky unfiltered and without any restraint.

Changbin closes his eyes, spreading his arms to the side. _How did he end up here in the first place? He could be at home, safe and sound._ No, that is not true. If he stayed, it would’ve made things worse. Changbin doesn’t understand why he still feels so awful.

He stays where he is, unmoving, letting his body adjust to the layer of grass beneath him. He doesn’t even hear Jisung coming or notice he’s there until he speaks.

Changbin startles, but doesn’t get up. The world is fractured through his bleary eyes, but it takes one blink for all the pieces to fall back into place again.

“You’re going to survive,” Jisung says. He sits next to him with his knees to his chest and a serene look on his face. 

For a brief, hopeful moment, Changbin can pretend they’re back in the meadow. The illusion fades out of existence as quickly as it appeared.

“At what cost?” Changbin’s thinking about their earlier conversation again, about Jisung’s own life and how he doesn’t deserve to die. “I didn’t mean to make you angry or upset in the kitchen.”

Jisung doesn’t meet his eyes, but he tells him, “Chan was right. My anger was misplaced. I’m upset with myself.”

Changbin doesn’t talk, waiting for Jisung to open up. Wishful thinking on his part, but he figures anything can happen after the past couple of days and the rollercoaster they’ve been riding ever since they fled from the palace.

“It’s not fair,” Jisung says quietly. “Sparing your life made everything worse. _I_ put you through all this. Hyunjin never would’ve come for us if you gave me up. You didn’t matter to him until I became attached.”

The end of that sentence lingers in the air, trapped between the two of them. Changbin can’t breathe, Jisung’s words squeezing at his chest, wrapping around his bones. _Until I became attached._ It’s a two way road, but Changbin doesn’t know how to tell him that.

“That’s a good thing,” Jisung continues. “Being off of his radar, I mean. Except now you can never go back to the palace or see your family, and it’s all because I wanted to be a better person, because I thought turning over a new leaf was worth it.”

Changbin can’t look at Jisung right now, not without a sob clawing its way up his throat, so he settles for the stars.

“Doing the right thing is never easy,” Changbin finally tells him, when the silence proves to be overwhelming. “I don’t think I could’ve looked you in the eye again if you killed him.”

Jisung murmurs, “You can’t even look at me right now. I can’t imagine what you would’ve done if I had gone through with it.”

Changbin sits up, his clothes damp and hair falling into his eyes. He mindlessly brushes it out of the way, not used to it. 

Jisung is still sitting nearby, but he looks different. No fancy suit or tie, which makes him wonder if he’s armed. (There’s no other option, really). His eyes are rimmed red like he’s been crying, and all the anger has washed out of him, leaving an empty shore behind.

“You should’ve let me go,” Jisung admits, staring at him point-blank. It’s a little intimidating. “I didn’t know Seungmin was trying to get me out of the palace.”

Changbin shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I didn’t like how Seungmin was talking about you...like you weren’t a person to him. I figured it’d be better to keep you close, that way you couldn’t do anything.”

A noise of disapproval stems from Jisung, and Changbin _really_ looks at him this time. The bruises lining his jaw and throat have yet to fade, a realization that leaves Changbin more sad than anything. He knows that Jisung thinks he’s the one to blame for their predicament, but Changbin looks at Jisung and wants nothing more than to carry that burden with him.

“Look where it got you,” Jisung gestures towards the backyard, back at the house and all of the troubles that lie within it. “Was it worth it? Sticking by my side?”

Changbin doesn’t hesitate—that’s the thing about growing up in a place where decisions are not meant to be taken lightly—to answer, not even for a second. “Of course it was.”

Jisung doesn’t believe him. Changbin can tell without having to ask, a side effect of spending every waking moment with him these past few months.

“You’re going to change your mind,” Jisung says. “Everyone does.”

Changbin frowns. “Chan didn’t.”

“Chan doesn’t count. We operate—well, used to—in the same world,” Jisung tells him. “It’s different. Me and him, we have a different history.”

Changbin waves a hand dismissively. “I don’t care about that. Nothing will ever change my mind. You’re worth it, Jisung. Whether you believe it or not.”

—

Almost a week after leaving the palace, Changbin stands in the doorway, clearly having walked in on a conversation between Jisung and Chan. He falters, not wanting to interrupt but not wanting to give himself away by walking back where he came from.

Too late, Chan spots him and waves him over. Changbin has half a mind to ask him why they never use the living room, why they linger in the kitchen, but he bites his tongue.

“I have an idea,” He offers. “Wanna hear it?”

Chan frowns. “I’m not sure I should be involved in it. Hyunjin would kill me on sight.”

“Like he wouldn’t do the same to us,” Jisung reminds him. He gestures for Changbin to continue. “Let’s hear it.”

Changbin clears his throat. “Well, for starters, we need information before we do anything else.”

Jisung glances at Chan warily, then back at him.

“I’ve been thinking about that, too, but I don’t know if it’s worth the risk,” Jisung admits. “Hyunjin probably has people everywhere.”

Changbin smiles. “I’ve already thought of a solution for that.”

“Really?” Excitement glints in Jisung’s eyes, the most emotion he’s shown around Changbin recently. “Come sit. I wanna hear it.”

Changbin doesn’t hesitate, sliding into the empty kitchen seat as he starts talking.

“Felix will tell us everything we need to know,” Changbin says. “He’s still in the palace. I told him to stay away for a week or so, which means he wasn’t there when Hyunjin showed up.”

He pauses to acknowledge a tiny flaw in his plan. “Assuming he even came back.”

“That doesn’t make much sense,” Jisung responds, appearing dejected. “How would we get information from him without going back to the palace?”

Changbin smiles. “We find him outside of the palace.”

“I’m not following.” Jisung leans back in his seat, frustration clear on his face.

Chan, having put it together apparently, simply says, “No.”

“You haven’t even heard the rest of it,” Changbin retorts, but he didn't expect Chan to catch on so quickly. He expected the resistance, though.

“Either one of you going to meet him is risky, so you probably want to send someone else instead,” Chan guesses. “Someone people won’t recognize, not immediately at least.”

Jisung’s eyebrows quirk up, having caught on. “I see. You want to send Chan instead of us.”

Changbin shrugs. “It makes more sense than either of us going. We would get caught almost immediately.”

“Felix goes to the market every week for herbs,” Changbin explains. “I can tell you which vendors he frequents, and you can wait until he gets there to make a move.”

He pauses. “Felix will trust you. I’m sure of it.”

Chan shakes his head. “And what makes you think that I would risk my life for the both of you? After all this time I’ve spent hiding, why would I show my face?”

“Out of moral obligation?” Changbin tries. In all honesty, he doesn’t have a real answer. He’s merely trusting Chan to do it. 

If he doesn’t, Changbin will go alone. He doesn’t have much of a choice.

Chan laughs. “Moral obligation? When you’re the one who wants to send me in harm's way instead of yourself? Not exactly morally righteous.”

Changbin’s chair scrapes against the ground as he stands, tired of the conversation.

“Don’t worry about it.” He glares at Chan for playing devil’s advocate, when Changbin examined and turned this problem from every corner and angle before coming up with a solution. “I’ll go myself.”

“That was my original plan, by the way,” Changbin adds. “I didn’t think either of you would let me go through with it, so I gave up on it. I never wanted to send you in the first place, but I also wanted to think of something that would cause the least amount of resistance.”

“You’re right though,” Changbin admits. “It’s not fair of me to ask you to do that for us.”

 _Stupid,_ Changbin thinks. _I should’ve just gone myself. This is my mess, not theirs._

“The more I think about it, the easier it’ll be if I go,” Changbin says. The fight is slowly draining out of him, letting reason take over instead. “Felix will recognize me.”

Jisung speaks up for the first time in minutes. “We’ll both go. Chan can do whatever he wants; he has no obligation to us. I can be your backup. Like old times.”

Changbin smiles despite himself. “Yeah. Like old times,” He echoes.

He pauses, realizing that Jisung is in more danger than he is. _Is it worth it to have him there, watching my back?_

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Chan sighs, derailing Changbin’s trail of thought. “I’ll go. I have nothing to lose.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow. “What made you change your mind? So quickly, too.”

“I’m tired of hiding,” Chan says. “I’ve done enough of that. Besides, sending you two to do it would just be stupid of me. I can hold my own, maybe even better than the both of you combined.”

Before either of them can refute or support his decision, Chan says, “Also, I have a bunch of equipment left over that we can use to communicate when I leave.”

Jisung perks up at the revelation. “No way. State-of-the-art?”

Chan’s smile is equal parts comforting and unsettling, making Changbin relieved that he’s on _their_ side. 

—

Chan’s voice crackles over the comms a few minutes after he leaves.

“What if Felix isn’t there?” He asks, and the sound that accompanies his voice tells Changbin that he’s running.

Jisung beats him to it. “Make small talk with someone nearby. Chances are, they’ll let something slip. But don’t outright ask. That’s too suspicious.”

His eyes flicker back to Changbin, searching for approval. Surprised, Changbin nods. They don’t have much of a choice otherwise, since they’re hedging everything on Felix’s need for a routine.

That, and fresh ingredients, of course. Changbin taps his fingers against the top of the table, anxious.

“Don’t say anything to us once you’re there,” Jisung adds. “It’s too dangerous.”

Chan’s voice is borderline amused when he says, “Do you know who you’re talking to? There wasn’t anyone better than me, back in my day.”

Jisung waves a hand dismissively, even though Chan can’t see him. Changbin watches him to see how he’s going to react.

“Cockiness is a weakness,” is all he says in response. “A weakness that can be exploited by any enemy smart enough to look for one.”

Changbin slips off his headphones, and gestures for Jisung to do the same. Jisung shakes his head, refusing, so he slides them back on.

His questions can wait. Curiosity is not a priority right now.

“Give me 15 minutes.” Chan’s voice pops and crackles to life in Changbin’s ears. He can’t help himself; he glances over at Jisung, worried. “If you don’t hear from me by then, you can assume I’ve been captured or compromised.”

Changbin hears a brief _click,_ and the stopwatch in Jisung’s hand reads _14:59._ And counting.

—

Chan knows how to blend in. The practice is seared into his brain, and he transitions seamlessly into the bustle around him, hefting a basket on his hip and walking with a set purpose in mind.

Kind eyes, a smile here and there, and he’s ready to go. He heads straight for the vendor he had in mind when he slipped out of the shadows, determined to get there before Felix left.

Dark hair, paired with a flash of freckles. Chan is sure it’s him, even more so as he sidles up to the table and hears, “Can I have your freshest pickings of rosemary?”

Chan smiles at him, and says, “I’ve always loved the smell of rosemary.” _Not exactly the truth; he can’t even remember what rosemary smells like, but Felix doesn’t need to know that_.

“Me too,” Felix admits. “I use it in a lot of dishes I make. Sometimes for decoration, but not always.”

Chan nods. The person selling herbs raises an eyebrow at him, waiting, and he requests mint. It’s the first thing that comes to mind, but no one bats an eye.

Too soon, Felix is walking away, in search of another table. Chan hurriedly shoves the mint in his makeshift basket, trying to maintain an appearance of calm. He makes his way through the crowd, noticing that no one even looks at him twice.

He smiles grimly. _I still have it, even after all these years._

It takes Chan under a minute to catch up to him, more time than he would have liked. He feigns bumping into him, and manages to drop his basket, spilling mint across the packed-soil of the street. Felix startles, but a mere second passes before he’s crouched on the ground with Chan, helping him.

Some of the people around them step out of the way, but most crush the leaves with their feet. Felix winces.

“I’m so sorry,” He apologizes, dumping a handful of leaves into Chan’s hands.

Chan looks up at him, and says, “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t mean to bump into you, but the market can get pretty crowded. You know how it is.”

Felix smiles at him, cocking his head to the side, and something stirs inside of Chan. He ignores it, already orchestrating his next move. They reach for the same clump of mint, and Chan ducks his head down enough for Felix to bump into his own.

He fakes a wince, and then begins talking quietly, while Felix is still nearby. He can’t meet his eyes, so he focuses his attention elsewhere.

“Meet me on the outskirts of town, by the forest.” He scoops up the last of the mint. “I have to talk to you about someone you know.”

Chan stands up, lifting the basket up and pushing his way through the market. He can’t risk turning back to see if Felix is following, not after everything he’s put on the line.

To his surprise, it doesn’t take long for Felix to slip into the fringes of the forest, shrouded by the dense branches. Chan can still make out his silhouette and the features of his face.

He sits on the forest floor, leaning against a tree trunk and plucking mint leaves off of their stems. He has plenty of it in his garden, anyways.

Felix purses his lips. “Who are you?”

Chan throws a leaf to the ground, and sighs. “Everyone always wants to know that. _Who are you? What are you doing here? How much money for you to disappear?_ ”

He folds his arms across his chest, abandoning the task at hand in favor of focusing fully on Felix. 

“Your friend sends a message. He wants to know what’s happening back home. You see, he wasn’t able to send you a follow-up letter after his last one,” Chan explains, hoping the thinly veiled code is enough for Felix to understand.

Changbin said he would, because he’s smart, but Felix wasn’t trained to be perceptive. Not like Chan and Jisung. He shifts on his feet, and can’t keep his hands still.

It takes Chan a split second too long to realize. _He’s nervous. Maybe he thinks I’m working for Hyunjin or Seungmin._

Changbin must’ve had a feeling that Felix would be unwilling to trust him immediately, so he sent along a piece of jewelry leftover from his trek out of the palace.

 _Felix will recognize it, Changbin had assured._ Chan doesn’t understand the trust that weighs in those words, but he slides the brooch out of his pocket. He gives it one, two twirls before throwing it, and says, “Catch.”

Felix startles, and it slips out of his fingertips, down to the ground. His eyebrows pinch together, and Chan watches the puzzle pieces fall into place.

“How do you know him?” Felix asks quietly. “I was so sure…”

Chan raises an eyebrow, but he isn’t surprised by the question. “I’m a friend of a friend. You know him, too.”

Felix grasps the brooch with one hand, and Chan recognizes the flash of annoyance on his face.

“Why are you talking in code?” He asks. “No one’s here.”

“You don’t get it.” Chan uses a hand to push himself off the ground, abandoning his spot by the tree. He puts his hands in his pockets, stepping closer to Felix. “Anyone could be listening.”

Felix clutches the silver-blue jewelry in his hand, staring off in space. Finally, he says, “His parents think he isn’t coming back. Ever. I can’t trust anyone.”

In other words: _The prince is considered dead. There are spies everywhere._ If Felix has caught on, that is. Chan hopes he has, otherwise they’ll go into this with the wrong information.

Chan half-expected it, but it’s still surprising. 

“Any other news?” Chan presses. _About Hyunjin. That’s what we_ really _need to know._

Felix hesitates. “I, uh, this entire time I thought his friend was responsible. According to the person who saw him last.”

Chan frowns. _Hyunjin pinned the blame on Jisung? That’s odd, but most likely a calculated move..._

“Is he really an…” Felix lowers his voice, but Chan is halfway to him before he can say it.

He pushes Felix against the nearest tree, hands fisted in his shirt, and hisses, “Not another word.”

Felix tries to yank his hands off of his shirt, but to no avail. 

“So, it is true,” He says quietly, letting his head fall back against the trunk. “You, too, huh?”

Chan refuses to give him an answer, instead pressing the most important issue at hand. “What else is there? Do not leave a single thing out.”

Felix raises an eyebrow, all traces of fear and nervousness from earlier gone.

“I want to see him.” Chan almost laughs in his face, but he stops himself at Felix’s expression, equal parts wistful and sadness. “I thought I would never get to see him again.”

Time is ticking. If he doesn’t switch his comms back on soon, they’ll give up on him, like he told them to. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to Chan. He lives his life with a target on his back. No attachments allowed.

“There’s a reason why I came looking for you,” Chan tells him instead. He has enough time. His internal clock is sure of it. “He wanted to do it himself, but I said no. I can’t risk taking you back.”

Anger flares up on Felix’s face, creasing the space between his eyebrows and drawing his mouth into a thin, flat line.

“I think we’re done here,” He says quietly, pushing back against Chan. “Let go of me.”

Chan slams him back into the trunk of the tree, trying to scare him more than anything. “If there’s something you aren’t telling me, you’ll never see him again. Do you understand?”

It takes a few seconds, but Felix gives in eventually. 

“I don’t know anything else.” He hesitates, studying Chan’s face carefully. “You risked a lot coming here, didn’t you? If you hadn’t, I would ask you to keep coming to the market for updates, but that’s a lot to ask, isn’t it?”

Chan nods. “We’re in a bit of a rush, you see.”

“Tell him I’m not hiding this time,” Felix answers, equal parts nervousness and confidence. “I’ll be waiting for him.”

Chan steps back, letting go of Felix. There’s no point in keeping him there, not anymore. Felix straightens his shirt out with a sigh, and gestures towards the pile of leaves Chan left.

“Quite the waste,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. Slipping through the forest without another word.

Chan doesn’t hesitate, switching his comms back on. “A minute to spare, right?”

Jisung’s voice cuts through the static.

“58 seconds,” He confirms, even better than what Chan had assumed. “We were ready to give up.”

Chan smiles. “As if I’d ever let you.”

—

Changbin breathes a sigh of relief, dipping his chin in acknowledgment towards Chan. Jisung raises an eyebrow at the basket, but doesn’t question it.

Chan glances over at Changbin, and says coolly, “Your friend is exactly like you. Stupidly reckless and stubborn.”

Changbin smiles despite himself. _He found Felix, after all._

Chan detangles the wire from himself, flicking it towards the table. He leans against the countertop of the island separating him from Changbin and Jisung, looking slightly worn out.

“I don’t think either one of you wants to hear what he had to say,” Chan admits, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. There’s a sheen of sweat breaking across his forehead, the only sign of exertion Changbin’s seen.

“It can’t be too bad,”Jisung says quietly, but Changbin catches the flash of worry on his face before it’s masked by his usual calm demeanor. Changbin wishes he would stop hiding behind a facade.

Chan shakes his head. “Hyunjin pinned it all on you. He has spies everywhere, and the royal family thinks you killed Changbin.”

Changbin stills for a long, painful moment. He drops his head into his hands, refusing to look at either one of them. He should’ve seen it all coming, yet it still caught him by surprise. He doesn’t dare say anything, out of fear that he’ll cry in front of them.

(Royals are not meant to cry; ghosts and fears are meant to be tucked away, deep inside of his skeleton).

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Jisung finally says, the frustration evident in the downturn of his lips and anger in his furrowed eyebrows. “I should’ve seen it fucking coming. What do I do now? Take him back?”

“You could, but Hyunjin exposed you to the royal family. One good look at you, and you’re gone for good,” Chan answers honestly. 

Changbin’s head is heavy in his hands, weighing him down towards the table. He can’t look up, but he can’t shoulder the burden alone, no matter how much he wants to.

“There has to be a solution,” Changbin murmurs. He slowly lifts his head up, working up the courage to look Jisung in the eye. “Do you remember? When you told me I had to leave to protect them?”

Jisung nods, but reluctance is written all over the gesture. He sits with his hands folded together, a hard glint in his eye that Changbin so badly wishes he could dull.

“It’s like that.” Changbin can’t look at him anymore. “I have to do what’s best for them, for Felix.”

Chan’s head swings back and forth between the two of them, their very own pendulum.

“And what is that?” Jisung asks quietly, like he already knows. It wouldn’t surprise Changbin if he did.

Changbin takes a long, deep breath in preparation for his next words. He isn’t expecting Jisung to agree, or for it to be the perfect solution. Not at all, but he wants to try regardless.

“We fight back,” Changbin says. “They’ve left us no other option.”

Jisung objects immediately, his voice rising above the sound of Chan giving his own opinion. “Absolutely not. We have no manpower, and you’re too morally sound to knowingly hurt anyone, no matter how evil or despicable they may be.”

“You don’t know that.” Changbin crosses his arms in defiance, but he knows Jisung is right. The mere thought of killing someone gives him a stomachache, nausea crawling up his throat.

_What else is there to do? Changbin can’t sit and wait for someone to come to them first._

“You had every opportunity to strike at Hyunjin that day,” Jisung murmurs. “Even an assassin can be caught off guard if you play your cards right, but you chose to hold back. Made sure I didn’t kill him.”

Jisung finally looks up at him. Changbin doesn’t miss the determination bleeding into his stiff posture and the curl of his shoulders.

“You know what that means?” Jisung’s smiling now. “We run.”

Changbin’s first instinct is to protest. He planned their whole getaway, sneaking back into the palace and taking back what he lost. He so badly wanted everything to go back to normal that he forgot to consider Hyunjin, who somehow holds more power than Changbin ever has. 

Changbin, who has given up so much because of him. Jisung, who defected and guided him to Chan’s hideout. Chan, who risked it all to ask Felix for information. Felix, who fought back against Chan and wanted to come here despite everything. They are all interconnected, a web of loyalty and favors and unlikely bonds.

Jisung is staring at him. Chan, as always, stands quietly. Changbin can feel his eyes on the both of them.

“That doesn’t feel very brave to me,” Changbin says quietly, as loathe as he is to admit it.

Jisung’s eyes flash with anger. “Is this really the time to worry about bravery? We have no other option. Hyunjin is too powerful for us.”

“Can’t we regroup?” Changbin presses, ignoring Jisung’s adamance towards fighting. “Think of a better plan before attacking?”

Jisung’s shaking his head mid sentence. “Absolutely not. Hyunjin will come knocking sooner or later, and we shouldn’t stick around to wait.”

Chan cuts in before Changbin can, taking a seat across from the both of them. His eyes flicker to Changbin’s, dropping back to the table.

“Jisung has a point.” He clears his throat. “I’ve lost touch with a lot of my contacts ever since I went off the grid, so I don’t have any backup to call. Fighting back isn’t much of an option right now.”

“So that’s it?” Changbin’s voice rises in pitch, surging with the dejection washing over him. “We just run?”

Jisung looks him dead in the eyes, all signs of agitation from earlier gone.

“Of course not. First, we train you.” Jisung turns to Chan, and there’s a hint of a smile forming. “Right, Chan?”

—

Chan flicks the light on, gesturing for Changbin and Jisung to follow after him.

“I thought,” Changbin hesitates, glancing at the walls of the room. He tries again. “I thought you weren’t part of this life anymore.”

Chan shrugs casually. “I kept these just in case. You never know.”

Changbin’s gaze lands on a bow, accompanied by a dozen or so arrows. He gestures towards it in awe.

“What are the odds?” He asks, but it’s a question meant for Jisung and Jisung only.

Jisung cocks his head, a smile peeking through. “What else can you knock off my head?”

Changbin hesitates, trying to put the raging storm of thoughts in his mind into coherent sentences.

“I’m not going to kill anyone,” He says quietly. It’s his one rule for leaving with Jisung. He refuses to lose sight of himself.

Chan glances between the two of them, and reaches out for the bow, taking it off of its perch on the wall. He holds it towards Changbin, neither person acknowledging his earlier statement.

“Well?” There’s a hint of determination on his face. “Let's see what you’ve got then.”

—

Chan arranges a line of objects on the fence enclosing his backyard, and waves a hand at them.

“Which one do you want to start with?” He asks, plucking a cup made of china. Changbin doesn’t even know where he got it from, but he doesn’t ask.

Jisung stands off to the side, arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face. The one thing Changbin can make out is the glint in his eyes.

“You choose,” Changbin answers, already docking an arrow. It feels right, the heavy weight of the bow and pulling back until he’s ready.

Chan picks up the china, much to Changbin’s surprise. Jisung doesn’t budge when Chan places it on top of his head.

“Still bulletproof?” Changbin asks, like it’s become some sort of joke between the both of them.

“Always,” Jisung answers readily, and the string of the bow lets out a _twang_ when Changbin lets go.

He almost expects Jisung to flinch, but he doesn’t even blink. The china itself shatters as it falls, and Chan raises an eyebrow at the sight.

Jisung beats him to it. “What’s changed? Last time, you couldn’t get a single shot in until I told you to aim for me.”

Changbin nocks another arrow, too sheepish to respond right away.

“I was running,” He admits. “You were everywhere.”

Jisung steps away from the pieces of china, his footsteps as quiet as ever. He lets Chan place another object on his head.

This time, he doesn’t say anything. Changbin knocks every object clean off of the top of Jisung’s head, leaving a small pile of china pieces and splintered wood.

Chan gives him another once-over and says, “This just might work if you keep practicing.”

Hope is a terrible, ugly thing. It slithers inside of his ribcage, taking root and growing with every word from Chan. He should squash it before it gets too bad, but Changbin can’t bring himself to do it.

 _Hope,_ he thinks, allowing himself to take in the idea of it.

—

Boot camp. Changbin learns the phrase from Jisung, who has him awake at the crack of dawn and moving until dusk, when the sounds of birds chirping fall to a quiet buzz and the sun is slinking behind the reach of the forest.

His entire body aches, sore and painful. Jisung’s sweating, but he appears reinvigorated by it, as if this training singlehandedly brought him back to life.

“We repeat tomorrow,” Jisung tells him. “No excuses or complaints. The clock is ticking.”

Changbin falls back against the grass without another word. Behind them, Chan sits on the steps of his porch, drinking from his mug and observing. He’s less harsh than Jisung, who has a habit of pushing Changbin to the edge, but he still commands Changbin’s respect.

“I’m guessing a pretty boy prince like you wasn’t built for this life,” Chan calls from behind him.

Changbin feels a laugh bubbling up inside of him despite the exhausting training he’s been put through, but Jisung beats him to it.

“Cut it out,” is all he says, but it is more than enough. After a second, he adds, “This isn't the palace. Things are different now.”

Changbin doesn’t complain for the rest of the night. Not even when getting into bed is a bit of a chore and every little movement sends flares of pain up his spine.

—

Changbin wakes up to Jisung thrashing in his sleep. He stiffens, trying not to move in an attempt to spare his body the unnecessary pain, but Jisung screams and he can’t help it.

He can’t stop himself from lunging down towards the ground, where Jisung stubbornly sleeps every night, rolling out of the bed and searching and grasping empty air until he realizes that Jisung’s meeting him halfway there.

Changbin’s fingers brush against Jisung’s, and he can’t stop himself from saying, “It’s okay.”

Jisung slumps back towards the ground, falling against his pillow with a soft _thud_. Damp hair and clammy hands. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

“You’re only human,” Changbin murmurs. “You can’t keep watch forever. Get some sleep.”

Changbin stays where he is, back pressed against the bed and knees pointing towards Jisung. There’s no use in trying to fall back asleep again, not with his entire body throbbing and protesting from his earlier movements.

Jisung rests back against his pillow, his silhouette fading into his surroundings. Changbin wants to bring him back, ground him to reality.

“You’re not alone, you know. I have a reoccurring nightmare,” He confesses. “It’s never exactly the same, but the foundation of it is. It’s a moral dilemma, and my family’s life is a stake. There’s no good option, and someone always ends up dying.”

Jisung’s staring at the ceiling. “Better one person than everyone.”

“That’s what you think,” Changbin says gently, “But when you care for so many people, it doesn’t feel that way. When you know them intimately, that mindset does nothing to curb the guilt.”

“So keep your list small.” Jisung spares him a glance. “Loving people creates liabilities.”

Changbin’s heart aches for him. “That’s not true, but you already know that, don’t you?”

“Hyunjin used to tell me that.” Jisung folds his hands behind his head, appearing more relaxed than earlier. “It’s the only advice I have for you, but that doesn’t mean I believe it myself.”

A slight pause. “Maybe I’m starting to change my mind. Who knows?”

Changbin laughs. “I don’t think you’re very good at giving advice. You have to believe what you say.”

Jisung is unfazed, eyes focused up at the ceiling instead of on Changbin.

“Do I?” He shifts slightly. “We give half-hearted advice all the time if it’ll make the other person happy.”

Changbin sighs, but he’s smiling. This feels easy, like something he can tackle without any worries of their future. “Maybe _you_ do.”

“No,” Jisung clicks his tongue. Changbin can’t tell if it’s a habit or if it’s out of annoyance. “I meant every single word I’ve said to you, advice or not.”

—

“Use me as target practice,” Jisung says the next day, throwing the bow to Changbin without any warning. “Even if you aren’t feeling murderous in the name of self-defense, it’s a useful skill to have, shooting at a moving target.”

Changbin catches it with ease, but his mind is still lingering on the first half of Jisung’s sentence. _Use me as target practice._

(He’s still sore from yesterday, with bruises forming from all the punches he couldn’t block from Jisung and bones aching from overexerting himself).

“I am morally obligated to decline,” Changbin says adamantly. 

Chan was right yesterday; this isn’t his life. _Jisung_ and _Chan_ belong to this world. Changbin’s still stuck in the palace, in velvet suits and marble staircases that stretch for ages and the smell of dessert coming from the palace kitchen.

He has one foot in his world and the other in their world. A crossroads, of sort. Their training together is a test, and Changbin’s failing miserably.

“And I am obligated to refuse your refusal,” Jisung responds smoothly. He gestures to the landscape around them. “Try to catch me. If you nick me with an arrow, no more training for today.”

Changbin hefts the bow into his hands, letting himself feel the weight of it in his hands. It’s comforting. For a second, he can pretend he’s home and back in the palace gardens.

Target practice always came easy to him, even if his targets were moving objects, but it’s been a while since he’s done it.

“And if I can’t?” Changbin’s desperate to stall. There’s no chance of him catching Jisung today. He’s only seen him in assassin mode once, but it was more than enough for him to realize they are no match for one another.

Jisung cocks his head to the side, smiling. “Guess you just better not lose.”

And he sets off without another word, disappearing into thin air. Changbin can’t even hear the sound of footsteps, and that’s when he realizes there’s so much more to this than finding Jisung.

It’s about learning _how_ to track, where to look, how to prepare for running into an enemy, and everything else in between.

Changbin belatedly realizes there’s no other option, so he docks and arrow in his bow and sets off in search of Jisung, tense and prepared to shoot.

He is at a crossroads, and he will go wherever Jisung does. That much, he’s sure of.

—

Changbin goes after Jisung everyday.

Over the course of time—which slips through their fingers like grains of sand—it takes Changbin less and less time to track him down. His punches are smoother, easier, and he even manages to bruise Jisung’s jaw once. He learns that even Jisung leaves behind a bit of a trail, and nicks him a few times by catching him off-guard.

(After the first time, Jisung guards himself better, and Changbin hunts for another hole in his defense, trying to slip through).

Eventually, Jisung ups the ante. Changbin fights both Jisung and Chan at the same time to shore his defense, and goes to bed bruised like a peach. He rises at dawn to repeat. Eat, fight, track, take a beating. His hair grows far too long for his liking and his body protests the exertion. 

It all blurs together.

The next thing Changbin knows, he has to go after the both of them and suddenly target practice becomes infinitely more difficult. Chan is on a completely different level than Jisung. Scary fast, and evasive. Changbin can’t get an arrow anywhere _near_ him, and it’s well past sunset by the time he manages to collect all of his failed shots back. He gave up hours ago, but neither of them need to know that.

“You’re impossible,” Changbin admits, still slightly out of breath. “Jisung is a piece of cake in comparison.”

Jisung gives no indication he heard him, already setting off back towards Chan’s house. Chan glances back at Changbin, hesitating.

“Still, you’re gaining ground on Jisung. Pretty fast, too.” Chan gives him an appreciative glance. “It’s impressive.”

The aching of his body tells Changbin otherwise, but he chooses not to mention that, setting off after Chan instead.

—

“I have a list of contacts you can ask for help if needed,” Chan tells them eventually, after Changbin’s learned all he can from the two of them. “It’s all written in code, but I think you guys can decipher it. I haven’t been able to reach out ever since I came here, but it’s worth a shot.”

He hands Jisung an envelope, and Changbin gets the lasting impression that this is real, that it’s tangible and he has no choice but to leave behind everything. 

Changbin trusts Jisung now. He has for a while, so he figures this is their best shot at making it out alive.

“Are they going to be…agreeable?” Jisung questions, tucking the envelope into the palm of his hands like it’s precious to him. “They know _you,_ not us.”

Chan gestures to the envelope in Jisung’s hands. “There’s a separate paper in there. If any of them refuse initially, show them it.”

“Does this mean we’re leaving soon?” Changbin blurts out. Then, “Why don’t you come with us?”

(Change is a scary, awful thing. Nothing about Changbin’s life is anywhere close to normal right now, and he’s clinging to the last bit of comfort he has left, the kind that he found in Chan and his habit of gardening and his calm, easygoing aura).

Chan raises an eyebrow. “Because I’m in hiding.”

Jisung glances over at Changbin, like he understands why he’s asking. Still, he doesn’t say anything. Changbin almost wishes he would, that he’d stop being so mysterious and shut-off.

“You weren’t hiding when you went looking for Felix,” Changbin argues. “How is this any different?”

“I was doing both of you a favor,” Chan answers, slowly, like Changbin wouldn’t understand otherwise. “The benefits of me going outweighed all the risks.”

Changbin clicks his tongue in response, but Jisung beats him to it.

“You’re handing out a lot of favors lately, aren’t you?” Jisung asks. Changbin might be mistaken, but he thinks he hears a bit of suspicion laced in his voice.

Changbin opts to stay quiet.

“Nothing wrong with that, right?” Chan glances between the both of them. “I helped you as much as I could, but I can’t risk getting caught again. I want to live, you know. I can’t do that if they find me.”

“Fine.” Jisung hands Chan the envelope back, even though Changbin would much rather he didn’t. “You can keep this, then. We’ll manage without it. Favors never come without a price, and I can’t afford to pay yours.”

Chan doesn’t refuse the envelope, like Changbin thought he would. Instead, he takes it back with a smile on his face.

“I figured you would give it back, but it was worth a shot, wasn’t it?” He smiles again, tilting his head to the side. “You have about 10 minutes until they get here. I can hear them shouting. Hyunjin’s lackeys for sure. They can’t even bother to stay quiet.”

Changbin freezes, but Jisung is already slinging a bag over his shoulder, muttering to himself and looking for something.

Chan gestures towards the hallway, his smile gone. “There’s a hatch in the closet door. I built it as my emergency escape route, but you’re welcome to use it.”

“What about you?” Changbin blurts out. Jisung’s hand latches onto Changbin’s wrist, pulling at him. His face _screams_ urgency, but Changbin stays in place long enough for Chan to wave them off.

“Go on,” He reassures. “I’ll be fine. The question is, will you?”

Changbin doesn’t have time to answer, because Jisung’s half-pulling, half-dragging him down the hallway, hissing under his breath about how stupid he is for hesitating, and whether or not he has his priorities straight, and if not, he better have them straightened out soon before it gets the both of them killed.

Jisung flings open the door at the end of the hallway, ushering Changbin inside. It all happens too fast, Jisung closing the door, clicking the lock shut and searching for the hatch with a sort of uncomfortable frenzy that Changbin can’t watch.

“Just when I thought I’d never see an underground passageway again,” Changbin murmurs. Jisung doesn’t glance back at him, utterly and entirely focused on prying it open.

He makes a point of barricading the door with whatever he can find, and it only takes Changbin a few seconds to catch on.

Jisung grabs his wrist again. “Absolutely not. Go through the passageway. I’ll meet you at the end.”

“Never.” Changbin pries Jisung’s grip off of his wrist, refusing to leave him behind after everything. “I can’t do this without you. We go together.”

Jisung makes a noise of frustration, but he doesn’t push the subject any further. “You better pray they don’t catch up to us simply because you wanted to stick together.”

“Don’t you get it?” Changbin slides another box against the door, his voice hushed but urgent. “I need you and you need me. We can’t afford to be separated.”

Jisung doesn’t answer, too busy throwing the hatch wide open.

“C’mon.” Jisung holds out a hand for him, and gestures towards the hatch. “I’ll help you go down.”

Changbin accepts it with no hesitation, trying not to think about how sweaty his hands must be, or the fact that one of Hyunjin’s lackeys could walk in on them trying to escape any second now.

“Ready?” Jisung asks. His grip is iron-clad, but it loosens as soon as Changbin nods his head, and it’s only mere seconds before he’s engulfed by the darkness emanating from the passageway. Alone. 

Through the hatch, he can barely make out Jisung’s face. His world tilts on its axis, and he’s reminded of the time _he_ was the one looking down from above ground, and Jisung was down in the passageway, waiting for him to pull him up.

Jisung hops down without another word, landing in the hard-packed dirt with a soft _thump._ He reaches up on his tippy-toes, clambering to close the hatch shut. 

Their only light source disappears, leaving them in complete and utter darkness.

—

“I wish we had the time to discuss where this leads before we left,” Jisung murmurs. “It’s extremely disorienting to not know where I’m going.”

Changbin opens his mouth to respond, but stumbles over something in the dark, catching himself at the last second.

Jisung’s voice echoes through the passageway. “Are you okay? We should probably stick together closer, that way we don’t take any spills.”

Changbin brushes the dust off of the palms of his hands, wincing.

“Fine. I just wish we had a candle or torch,” He admits. “It’s unsettling. The darkness, I mean.”

He can’t make out Jisung’s face right now, but he so badly wishes that he could. Nothing like being in total darkness to set his nerves off, leaving his heart racing and hands clammy from nervousness.

“We can’t run this time,” Jisung says instead. “It’s too risky.”

Changbin doesn’t say it, but he’s relieved. The thought of running right now makes him nauseated, even though he trusts Jisung enough to follow him anywhere.

He hears shuffling in the dark, and Jisung’s voice comes from somewhere to his right. “Come this way. Keep your hand on the wall and go straight.”

Changbin hesitates, but takes a careful step towards where he heard Jisung’s voice, letting the sound of it guide him until his hand is met with a smooth surface.

“Found it,” Changbin murmurs. “You’re in front of me, right?”

“I am,” Jisung confirms. “Ready?”

Changbin has no choice but to say _yes._ It’s too late to back out now.

—

There’s a stairway this time. Jisung tells him to watch out right as Changbin bumps into the first step, sending a jolt of pain down his leg.

“How did I manage to hit it if _you’re_ in front of me?” Changbin whisper-yells, cupping his shin tragically. He hadn’t seen this coming.

Jisung sounds amused when he says, “I moved to the side. I think it’s big enough for both of us to use.”

“Of course you did,” Changbin mutters. The pain has faded to a dull throb, but never mind that. 

What he _really_ wants to know is why Jisung appears relaxed, even in the darkness blanketing the both of them. Last time, it felt like life-or-death. This time, it feels like a casual stroll and less like a grand escape.

The stairs _creak_ as Jisung starts making his way up. It’s almost funny, how even a trained assassin can make noise on the most rickety of stairs.

That doesn’t deter Changbin from asking, “How come you aren’t rushing to get out of here? Aren’t you scared that they’ll catch up?”

Jisung reaches the top of the stairs before him, but he waits for Changbin. Changbin, who knows this because he’s learned to listen for the smallest of sounds, hurries to meet him there.

“Hyunjin’s lackeys are an easy fight.” Jisung steps off the top stair first. “He sent them because they’re expendable. The both of us could take them easily.”

“Your confidence does little to reassure my nerves,” Changbin says. He hears a couple of soft _clicks,_ and then Jisung’s calling him over once again.

He’s surprised with the ease he manages to locate Jisung in the darkness surrounding them, a consequence of their training together. If Jisung notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Changbin lets his hand brush against Jisung’s to let him know he’s there. Not even half a second later, Jisung pushes open a door.

“How in the world did he manage to do all this?” Changbin murmurs, right as Jisung sees what’s waiting for them, and says, “Shit.”

—

Everything is a blur. Changbin barely registers any of the words exchanged between Jisung and the women standing across from them, too busy thinking about how they are definitely going to kill the both of them if they don’t figure anything out.

One of them nods towards Changbin, eyes sharp and lips pressed together out of annoyance. Her hair is harshly cut, falling right above her shoulders. “What’s wrong with him? Boss won’t be too happy if we bring him back and he refuses to talk.”

“Yeah?” Jisung’s spinning a knife dangerously. Changbin doesn’t know where it came from, or when he pulled it out. It seems to be his signature move. “What’s he gonna do when we escape?”

The woman standing closest to them, dressed in all black, doesn’t so much as bat an eye. “No chance of that happening. You’re not the only one who plays with knives for a living.”

Changbin pales when she yanks out two equally long blades, spinning them with the same sort of ease that Jisung does. So much for Hyunjin sending expendable fighters. She looks terrifying. Changbin can’t tell if Jisung will be able to hold his own against her.

“Funny,” Jisung murmurs, too relaxed for Changbin’s taste. “He actually got someone competent to come after me, and not his usual batch of nobody’s.”

No training could have prepared Changbin for the minutes that follow. They all lunge at the same time, the woman in front heading straight for Jisung and the rest ganging up on Changbin.

Belatedly, he remembers the bow and arrows strapped to his back, and goes to dock an arrow. One of them kicks him in the leg, and he stumbles, gritting his teeth in an attempt to keep his balance. He’s sure she meant to knock him to the ground, but Changbin can’t afford to lose.

He backs up a couple of steps, pulling the bow back. “Don’t make me do this. Just pretend you never saw us.”

Jisung flips the woman onto her back at the same time, his knife glinting in the fading sunlight.

“Seo Changbin, if you get us killed because of how righteous you are, I will never forgive you,” Jisung calls out, his knife pressed to the woman’s throat.

Changbin lets the first arrow fly with a _twang_. He’s had enough of righteousness. He burned that bridge the second they started going after Jisung.

—

Changbin’s the one bleeding this time. The lady that went after Jisung—he says her name is Sooyoung—nicked him at the last second with her knife.

“I can’t believe you let her get you,” Jisung mutters. They’re half-walking, half-jogging because blood drips down into Changbin eyes and turns his vision frighteningly red, slowing him down considerably.

Changbin knows Jisung could run at full-pace without breaking a sweat, but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s staggering, trying to stay by his side. _There’s no point in leaving me behind,_ Changbin thinks grimly. _Hyunjin will get to us, one way or another._

“In my defense, I was trying to stop the rest of them,” Changbin explains. He wipes at the blood once more, ignoring the way it dries on his skin. “She came out of nowhere.”

_“Why bother fighting back?” She grips a knife in one hand, like she’s too busy dissecting him to use it right now. “Hyunjin will do far worse things to you if you escape from me.”_

Jisung’s staring at him.

“I heard what she said,” Jisung admits. There’s a ringing in Changbin’s ears that is horrifyingly persistent, growing progressively louder with every passing second.

Changbin doesn’t say anything, stuck in a mindless loop of earlier events that transpired. 

_“What are you going to do?” Changbin just barely dodges the first knife. “Run for the rest of your life? You were born into royalty, Your Majesty. I doubt you could ever get used to it.”_

_The next knife cuts open his forehead, despite his best efforts to lunge out of the way. It burns like his forehead is on fire, flames licking at skin and he can’t breathe, can’t see where Jisung is. Changbin can’t hold back his surprise as blood obscures his vision, a curtain of red flooding everything in sight._

_“Give_ up _,” She insists. “I’ll make it quick.”_

Changbin returns back to reality in time for Jisung to hold out an arm in front of him, halting to a stop.

“Voices,” He murmurs, craning his neck to the right. “Exactly what we needed right now.”

Changbin freezes, already running through the countless scenarios they could be faced with any second now. He presses a hand above his eyebrow, trying to staunch the bleeding. The cut is far too shallow for the amount of blood that’s dripping, but he can’t focus on that right now.

Jisung holds his fingers to his lips, signaling him to be quiet. The voices slowly rise as they get closer, leaving every muscle in his body tensed up, but they must make a turn somewhere because they fade out into the distance, until Changbin lets his shoulders slump forward and Jisung exhales.

Changbin hadn’t even noticed the tension lining the edges of Jisung’s body, carved into place from years of what he assumes is experience. He can never tell with Jisung.

“That was close,” Jisung says, his voice still hushed. He glances back at Changbin, still holding a hand to the knife wound, the look on his face unreadable.

“We’ll stop soon,” Jisung tells him, a sliver of empathy crawling out. “Can you manage until then?”

Changbin nods quickly, not wanting to slow them down. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just one cut. It’ll take more than that to stop me.”

Jisung eyes him surreptitiously, but doesn’t say anything else. The rest of their trek is done in silence, something Changbin has grown used to after their time together.

—

A cave. This is what Changbin’s life has come to. Just thinking about all that Hyunjin ruined for him is enough to bring his anger to the surface, only to be washed away by the feeling of Jisung’s fingers on his skin.

“You got lucky,” Jisung tells him, a mix of wonder and concern in his voice. (When did Jisung swap out annoyance for care? Changbin wishes he knew). His fingernail scrapes against dried blood, making Changbin wince.

“I tried to dodge,” Changbin says defensively, remembering the searing pain all too well. “She was fast. Probably not too fast for _you,_ but too fast for me.”

Jisung wipes away dried blood with their precious store of water, but Changbin is too exhausted to protest or comment on the fact. He tries to sit as still as possible, letting Jisung take care of him.

How far they’ve come. Weeks ago Changbin would’ve done anything to get out of his presence, even for a few seconds. Now, he fears what would happen to either one of them if they were separated in the long run.

He’s running again, with Jisung by his side.

“You did well,” Jisung’s touch disappears briefly. It reappears a few seconds later when he presses a bandage against his skin.

Changbin isn’t used to this. “I could’ve cleaned it up myself, you know.”

Jisung clicks his tongue, dismissing the idea quickly. 

“You’re royalty. Have you ever actually done this before?” Jisung asks, his voice too quiet. “I don’t mind doing it. God knows I have plenty of practice.”

Changbin frowns. “You got injured a lot?”

Jisung nods. He’s not looking at Changbin, still fussing over his wound and adjusting it every few seconds. Changbin merely sits, back pressed against the stone wall.

“At the beginning,” Jisung says lightly. “Most of the jobs went sideways back then. You’d be surprised at how many people do not appreciate their relatives or bosses being assassinated.”

Changbin hesitates, not wanting to overstep the carefully constructing boundaries guarding the both of them.

“You don’t have to make a joke out of it,” Changbin tells him. He starts to reach out towards Jisung with his hand, but he stops himself. “Not around me. You can be honest.”

Jisung sighs. “Are you calling me a liar, by any chance? I thought we were past all that by now.”

“Besides, my past isn’t that big of a deal.” Jisung starts packing everything back up, one by one. “I kill people for a living. It’s who I am. Maybe it was meant for me. Who knows?”

Changbin shakes his head. “You cannot carry the weight of your past alone. It’s not fair to say you were meant to do this when you carry the weight of your actions, too.”

“What? You want to share the burden of all the deaths I’m responsible for?” Jisung asks. He sounds weary. “People like you don’t get it. You want to fix me, make me better and tell me that this isn’t who I am.”

“You want me to be like you,” Jisung murmurs.

Changbin forces himself to unclench his jaw, trying to relax. 

“That’s not it.” Changbin can barely make out Jisung’s face in the growing darkness. “I want you to know that the responsibility is not all yours, that Hyunjin manipulated you into thinking you were doing the right thing. Don’t you think he is to blame as well?”

Jisung slides down against the wall, until they’re sitting side-by-side and spilling secrets into the space between them.

“Being good or bad is much more nuanced than you think it is, Jisung,” Changbin finally admits to him. “It’s not black or white, and it’s most certainly not easy. Doing the right thing almost never is.”

“It shouldn’t be hard,” Jisung says softly. “It should be clear as day. I should know whether or not I’m doing the right thing. If I have to think about it, am I really a good person?”

“Of course you are,” Changbin tells him. “Thinking about it means you want to choose the safest option possible, the one with the least amount of risks.”

Jisung falls silent after that, letting the fading remnants of daylight shroud them in darkness. Changbin’s forehead throbs, but he doesn’t complain, not even when the arms of sleep refuse to curl around his body and lull him away.

He stays where he is, unmoving, until dawn starts to break.

—

Changbin hears them. It takes him a few seconds, but he eventually realizes that the sound of leaves being trampled and branches breaking are due to Hyunjin’s lackeys, and not to the animals of the forest.

Tension wires Jisung’s body. His lips are pressed together tightly, and he keeps glancing over his shoulder.

“He’s so fucking stubborn,” Jisung mutters. It’s the first thing he’s said ever since they caught on to the group of people not too far behind them. No time for duping them with fake trails or any of the tricks Jisung has stored up under his sleeve. It’s just the two of them.

Changbin doesn’t dare slow down, trying his best to stay only a step or two behind Jisung. With this life comes a gnawing sort of anxiety, the kind that tells him _You’re going to get caught any second_ and _What happens next? Torture until your body gives out?_

He refuses to think about it. Jisung would never let that happen to them. Changbin isn’t sure how long they can keep going for, though. Exhaustion burns his lungs and makes every breath harder than the last. No amount of oxygen stifles the aching of his legs.

The noises behind them grow louder and louder, until Changbin tastes bile in the back of his throat, mixing with his angry, loud heartbeat slamming against it. Jisung never stops moving, doesn’t step on a single twig or leaf but they still manage to keep up with them.

Changbin knows. They are mere seconds away from being captured. He can feel it thrumming in his bones and see it on the sharp lines of Jisung’s face. He’s about to say something stupid, like how he appreciates what Jisung’s done for him and that he wishes they could go back to the way things were, and that he’ll never get angry with him again when a knife whizzes past his ear.

Changbin drops to the ground instinctively, and hisses, “Knife,” in an urgent tone to Jisung.

He looks up from the forest floor to find that Jisung’s already crouching, alert and ready to fight. Of course Jisung caught on before him. There’s no way he wouldn’t.

“A warning would’ve been nice,” Changbin whispers, curling his fingers up against the grass and moss. It’s soft against his touch. “How did you know?”

Jisung holds a finger to his lips, scanning their surroundings.

“I know you’re out there!” A voice roars, stirring birds to life and the rustling of trees. No one that he can identify, but Changbin freezes nonetheless. “We’ll go easy on you if you give yourselves up.”

A pause. “Can’t say the same about the boss, though. He’s been dying to get his hands on you.”

Jisung’s hands curl into fists. Changbin knows that the feeling of nails digging into skin hurts more than anything, so he risks moving closer to gently pry his fingers open.

“Relax,” Changbin murmurs. 

Jisung blinks, but doesn’t say anything. He shrugs off Changbin’s touch after a few seconds, and mouths, _Follow me._

Jisung does not have to tell him twice; Changbin would follow him to the edges of the Earth, if he could.

They veer off to the side, following a fairly well-concealed portion of the forest. Jisung is almost too fast for him, jogging at a faster pace. Every so often, he glances back at Changbin, who can still taste his heartbeat in his throat.

It takes Changbin a while, but he finally realizes what Jisung is doing: backtracking. They’re heading back to the direction where Hyunjin’s lackeys came from, circling towards the area they already searched under the assumption they will not go back this way again, not before they’ve left, at least.

 _Smart,_ Changbin realizes woefully. _Why didn’t I think of that?_

Jisung looks back over his shoulder every so often, as if to make sure Changbin is still there.

 _Always,_ Changbin thinks. _I would follow you to the ends of the Earth if it meant getting a taste of the unknown and what’s waiting for me._

“Is this what you want?” Jisung’s voice is soft, barely heard over the sounds of the forest. Everything about him is quiet, his footsteps, his voice, the way he glances back at Changbin, waiting for an answer. “This life. Can you handle it?”

Changbin feels like he’s standing at the edge of a cliff, on the precipice of something unknown, teetering and left only with Jisung’s outstretched hand to ground him.

( _Say yes,_ the voice inside his head tells him. _You’ve always wanted to run_ ).

Jisung’s eyes are gentle, round and unassuming. Changbin cannot look away from him, no matter how hard he tries.

So he does what he knows best, what he’s longed to do for years: he follows after Jisung, and takes the metaphorical plunge off the cliff with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to continue this but its like midnight and i am so exhausted so i am going to sleep on the idea of making this a series and writing more for it...im really feeling the bodyguard-assassin-turned-lover-of-the-prince trope going on here


End file.
